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sushi0989 · 3 years

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Pick Me If You Want To (part 1)

Summary: Set in the early 1950s, you are an aspiring photographer that is currently working at a toy store until you make your big break. During a surge of Christmas shopping, you are first met by Wanda Maximoff, a mother of twin boys and married. She leaves her gloves, which gives you the opportunity to meet her again. She takes fond of you, and you of her, but her messy divorce with her husband, Vision, risks the custody of her twins. Does she continue your blossoming relationship or fight for her kids? Based on the movie Carol

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: none (i think)

Word Count: 4823

A/N: I actually thought of this idea in the middle of the night while lying in bed and I literally jumped out of bed to write it down haha. I have 2 parts written so far and I plan on having 4 parts in total. I’m also not sure if I want to include smut because in the movie they hook up once, but I’ll think about it. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy :)

Christmas was the most hectic time of the year, for shopkeepers especially. You were struggling to stay afloat during the Christmas present buying palooza. The customers kept flowing in searching for the perfect toy for their child or nephew or grandchild, constantly asking what was the best of the best. Not to mention, the annoying Santa hat perched on your head was a little too big for you, so it kept sliding off and obstructing your view. Your shift ended ten minutes from now, you only had to keep at this for ten more minutes, you assured yourself.

That was when a woman walked in: curled chestnut red hair falling just above her shoulders, red lipstick glistening in the store lights, and wore a tan coat over her light blue dress with matching gloves. She looked at the different products quizzically as you tried not to stare. She began to come to your area at the counter, so you pretended you were writing in the sales slip.

"Hello, sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could help me?" the woman asked you, her voice was warm but also had a richness to it you couldn't quite describe. Perhaps like honey. "Of course, ma'am. How could I be of assistance?" you responded with your customer service voice, perky and obnoxious, two things that you were not.

"I was hoping to get something for my twin boys, but I'm not quite sure what I should get them, you see. I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction," she continued, her eyebrows furrowed while addressing you, her green eyes not leaving yours.

Your thoughts about annoying customers disappeared all for this woman. There was just something about her that made you drawn to her, but what was it? "May I suggest a model train? It would be a great gift to share between the two of them," you suggested. The woman felt that she could trust you with anything, you had this energy that she wanted to relish in, but your interaction only lasted for 2 minutes. You gestured to the model train showcase behind the woman and she nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think I would like to order that, thank you, doll," she said to you, your stomach fluttering at the nickname.

"Could I get your name please?" you asked so you could fill out the sale slip, you tried maintaining your professional composure. "Wanda Maximoff," she answered. You asked her to sign the bottom of the page, and she took her gloves off and placed them on the counter beside her to do so, your eyes glanced at her gold wedding band on her ring finger. You stared away to check on other customers as she signed and you noticed an older woman who appeared to be needing help. "If you would excuse me, I need to help another customer. Darcy over here will help you with the purchase," you told Mrs. Maximoff as you made your way to the old woman by the action figures.

She nodded her head and watched you as you turned away. Darcy came over to Mrs. Maximoff and assisted her with the payment, but as Mrs. Maximoff was leaving, she was so focused on you that she had left her gloves sitting on the counter. When you were about to leave for home, you noticed the light blue gloves still lying on the counter, but Wanda was nowhere to be found.

You went to your boss, "Mr. Stark, it looks like one of our customers has left their gloves," you stated with a ring of fear that he might get angry. He crossed his arms and huffed, "well then go look at the sales slip and contact them." You nodded, "yes sir," and pulled out the sales slip for the day. There was written, 'Wanda Maximoff' along with her address and phone number. You wrote the address down on a separate envelope and placed the gloves inside and mailed it off on your walk home.

You got back to your apartment, and much to your disappointment, your boyfriend was there, too. "Hey, baby," he said as you walked into the living room, engulfing you into a hug that you weren't really in the mood for. "Hey, Steve," you said into his chest trying to pull away, the strong scent of cologne invaded your nostrils. He wasn't a terrible person, but you couldn't stand him most of the time by his 'lovey-doveyness'. Your first year with him was great, your love felt pure, but over time it felt bland and repetitive. He, however, was infatuated by you, always wanted to be with you in every waking moment like a puppy.

"Come to France with me," he whines, but you've already told him dozens of times that you didn't want to. You were in the midst of potentially getting signed on as a photographer for The New York Times thanks to your friend, Bruce, who works there. "I already told you no," you groaned, walking away to put your bag down and ready to shower. "Come on, I have so many things planned for us," he pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it and locked yourself in your room. Little did you know, he wanted to propose to you with a candlelit dinner on the Eiffel Tower.

"Open the door," he knocked aggressively, but you didn't want to deal with him right now, or else you would say things that you wouldn't be able to take back. "I'm tired, I'm going to take a shower and crawl into bed," you groaned through the door. "Why don't I join in," he murmured seductively. "Not today, I'm not feeling it," you replied flatly. Steve sighed and walked off, now relieved, you gathered your showering items and went to the bathroom.

Wanda arrived back at her home late at night, her sons running up to her as she walked through the door of her grand estate in New Jersey. Vision, her husband, gave her an irritated expression as she hugged her children. "Go off to bed, kids, I need to talk to Daddy," she cooed and kissed the tops of their heads and they ran off up the spiral staircase.

"Took you long enough to get home."

"Well I was running errands," Wanda huffed and went over to the cupboard that contained alcohol and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She walked over to a chair in the living room and sat with her legs crossed eyeing her irritated husband.

"Errands," Vision chuckled dryly. "It's my turn to sleep in the bedroom, you can stay in the guest room tonight," he seethed while going up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door shut.

Wanda sighed as she chugged her drink and slumped further into the chair. Once the divorce was finalized she could finally be free from his judgment. She could do whatever. Wanda eventually went upstairs and quietly entered the room of her sleeping boys, giving them each other kisses and tucking them in as they were fast asleep.

In the morning, Wanda received a package with her gloves inside, the return address reading 'Stark's Toy Emporium.'

Wanda picked up the phone and called the store.

"Hello, this is Stark's Toy Emporium, Tony Stark speaking," a man answered, seeming to be in a rush. "Hello, I just received my gloves I misplaced at your store in the mail, I was wondering if I could thank whoever found them," Wanda replied.

Soon you were being called over by Tony, his eyes rolled in annoyance, as per usual. You quickly grabbed the phone hoping it wasn't Steve, "Hello?"

"Hi! This is Wanda, I just wanted to thank you for sending my gloves," she chimed through the speaker. "Oh it was nothing ma'am," you replied, trying to shake off the feeling you were getting from this woman's voice. "Well, I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch as thanks," she invited, her voice was a bit softer, deeper than before. "No, ma'am it's okay, it wasn't that big of a deal," you answered back. "Oh come on now, it's my treat. I'll see you at 2 pm at Barnes' Bistro," she hung up the phone before you could object.

It was already noon, only two more hours before you had to awkwardly make small talk with a woman you very well are intimidated by for some odd reason. You hung the phone back on its receiver and returned to work, the rush of people continued through till the end of your shift. There was not even a moment of rest before your lunch. You masked your exhaustion as you entered the restaurant, the aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with delicious food circulated the air, but you would take this scent over Steve's cologne any day.

A waiter noticed you enter and greeted you, "Good afternoon, ma'am, do you have a reservation?" You quickly scanned the restaurant and noticed the top of the chestnut red hair in the back corner. "Um, I believe the name is Maximoff, I see her back there," you pointed in the direction of the redhead. "Ah yes, Mrs. Maximoff, right this way ma'am," he gestured for you to follow him towards the back of the restaurant. It was rather dimly lit, the booths were occupied either by two men in business suits or a man and a woman, all of whom were smoking a cigar or cigarette.

"And here you are," the young waiter said as you stood at the end of the table, Mrs. Maximoff glancing up meeting your eyes. Her fingers also held a smoking cigarette, but you didn't mind since it was the norm, however, you personally didn't smoke. "You made it!" she exclaimed quickly, getting up and kissing both of your cheeks as a greeting. You awkwardly smiled and sat across from her in the booth seating.

"What drink would you like, ma'am?" the waiter asked. "Oh, uh, water should be fine, thank you," you replied quietly, your nervousness could be detected from miles away, but Mrs. Maximoff seemed to be shocked for some odd reason. "Water? No dear, let me treat you to something nice, could you get her a glass of Chianti?" she requested and the waiter nodded enthusiastically and rushed off. Mrs. Maximoff took one last puff of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray.

"So, I don't think I ever got your name, dear," she began. "Y/n Y/l/n" you answered quickly. "That's a pretty name for a pretty girl," she smiled and picked up her glass of red wine and took a swig. Your face blushed at the compliment, you looked down at your hands fiddling with the spoon on the table to avoid her eyes. The waiter came back with the glass of red wine meant for you and placed it next to your hand. "Thank you, Peter," Mrs. Maximoff said to him. He nodded his head before dashing off again.

"How long have you been working at the toy store?" she questioned. "It'll be one year next month, it's just a side thing," you answered embarrassed to mention your true dream. "Well, what is it you want to do?" she raised an eyebrow. "I uh- I'm a photographer," you stammered. "That's very intriguing, y/n" she complimented, you were flustered by the use of your name.

"Have you had any success in finding a job relating to photography?"

"I just met with a photo editor at the New York Times last weekend, I have to put together a portfolio and send it off to them to be considered for a position," you explained, finally looking up at her and putting your spoon down. "That sounds exciting! You must show me your work!" Mrs. Maximoff exclaimed with genuine excitement. Steve would complement your photography, but it felt half-hearted, maybe it's because he didn't want you to overshadow him someday.

After lunch as the two of you headed out, Mrs. Maximoff and you exchanged a farewell. "Thank you again for the lunch, Mrs. Maximoff," you thanked her in a quick hug. "Oh, it was my pleasure. And please call me Wanda, you're making me feel quite old. How about I give you my number and we can meet again?" she offered and you couldn't help but nod. As much as you weren't keen on continuing this friendship or relationship or whatever was happening, you felt like this woman understood you in a way no one else did.

You decided to go visit Bruce to thank him for getting the meeting with the photo editor. The thought of Wanda's phone number written on a slip of paper in your handbag added pep to your step as you strolled into the office building. You walked up to the front desk saying you were going to visit a friend, "Mr. Banner is on floor 11," she said. The elevator let you off on the floor and you saw Bruce in his office typing away on his typewriter.

"Y/n! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!" he beamed and got up from his desk to give you a kiss on the cheek. "I figured I should stop by since you're the reason my dreams have a chance of becoming a reality now," you smiled and took a seat across from his desk. "It was no problem, your talent would add so much to the paper. You're also welcome here whenever," Bruce stated leaning back in his armchair.

"Where are my manners? Let me get something to drink! I've got whiskey, gin-" "I just had a drink actually," you countered declining his offer.

"What's one more drink gonna do? Come on, live a little!" he pressured you and got up to go to the corner of his office to pull out two glasses and a bottle of gin. "Fine, only this once," you caved in. He poured two drinks and handed you one. The gin went smooth, but it still burnt your throat, however, you were able to mask it.

"How are things with you and Steve?" Bruce inquired with skepticism, which you found a little out of character, but the alcohol toiled with your mind and proceeded to spill all of your thoughts. "He wants me to go to France with him even though I've told him not so many times. I can't deal with him anymore, but I've been with him for so long now that I feel bad to end things," you confessed, making Bruce intrigued. He leaned on his desk directly in front of you.

"Is there someone else you think is causing you to lose interest in him?" Bruce asked in a low tone and leaned towards you a little bit, but still your slightly tipsy self didn't see the red flag. "I mean, I haven't really thought about that," you answered pondering, thoughts of Wanda flashing in your mind, but you were quickly brought back to reality when Bruce's lips were on yours.

You shrieked, forcing him to pull away. You angrily got up, "what the hell, Bruce?!" you scolded him. "I'm sorry! You weren't reacting when I was leaning closer to you so I just went in!" he defended his actions. "God! All men are the fucking same!" you complained and downed your drink before rushing out of his office. Bruce rubbed his forehead realizing the mistake he made, but it was too late to take it back now.

You arrived back in your apartment to emptiness, Steve was nowhere to be found. Thank god, you thought. You stumbled onto your pea-green sofa and laid there in anguish. Nothing seemed to appease you, nothing went your way. As soon as these thoughts rang in your head, your telephone rang as well. You groaned as you begrudgingly made your way to the kitchen where the phone was hung.

"Hello?" you groaned in a tired and yet apathetic voice which Wanda was a bit surprised to hear.

"Hi, sweetie, it's Wanda!"

You held your breath realizing you rudely answered the woman. You cleared your throat and corrected your shoulders before speaking again. "Hi- uh I'm- hi!" you stuttered, grumbling to yourself for this embarrassing encounter.

"I was calling to invite you over to my house, I would love to have you over," Wanda said, biting her lip hoping that you would say yes. She twirled the cord connecting to the receiver around her finger patiently waiting for your answer.

"Oh, really? I mean, I can. I don't have a car though-"

"I can pick you up!" Wanda interrupted with excitement. "When are you free this week, dear?"

"I'm free tomorrow," you replied with a smile to contain yourself. "I'll come tomorrow at noon then," Wanda concluded, little did you know just how much she was looking forward to seeing you and your adorable self. She couldn't get enough of you, and neither could you get enough of her.

Steve never came home that night, and you didn't care one bit. He was a nuisance to your life, especially right now since he knew how much this photography opportunity meant to you, but his pestering was going to make you snap and break his heart at any second.

You looked your best self, wearing a navy blue blouse with black trousers. It wasn't that common for women at the time to be wearing such things, it was more progressive, however, all you cared about was comfort. You occasionally would wear dresses, but you preferred pants and a shirt. You could say that it was for Wanda, but it was for yourself. People, particularly women, would examine your modern style as appalling, but not Wanda. You figured why not be comfortable and stylish.

You made a small breakfast before Wanda arrived. You had a bit of a headache from all of the alcohol you had the day before, but that was barely on your mind. All you could think about was making sure you looked presentable as did your apartment before Wanda came. You just finished drying the last dish when you heard a knock on your door. You dried your hands with the dish towel before scurrying to quickly let Wanda in.

There she was, standing in a red coat that hugged her figure in all of the right ways. She wore a beige dress underneath, hidden by the boldness of the coat that you couldn't keep your eyes off of. She was also wearing a matching red hat that looked beautiful with her chestnut hair.

"Ready to go?" she asked, seemingly in a hurry. "Yes, let me get my bag," you turned around and grabbed your bag off of the coffee table, inside holding your wallet and your camera just in case there was an opportunity to shoot.

You walked with Wanda side by side in a comfortable silence until you reached her car. You sat on the passenger side, which was connected with the driver's seat.

"Would you like any music?" Wanda inquired as she pulled out of the parking spot on the curb. "I'll listen to whatever you do," you answered. You didn't listen to music all that much, you didn't have the time to nor did you have a radio.

"I like to drive in silence, the sound of the wind soothes me," Wanda replied. You turned your head and saw how the cool wind tousled Wanda's hair around, but never did it ruin her perfect curls.

"There's a Christmas tree farm on the way that I wanted to check out if that's okay with you," Wanda imparted quickly glancing at you but focused on the road. "That's fine, I don't mind," you said. Wanda's cheeks feathered a light pink, delighted that you agreed. She soon pulled into the small but crowded Christmas tree market. There was Christmas music playing, kids laughing and sprinting around completely oblivious to the disgruntled shouts by their parents, and the occasional newlywed couple admiring what tree was to be their first one.

"You can stay in the car if you'd like, I'm just going to pay for one and bring it back some other time," Wanda was saying to you standing right out of the passenger window. You didn't even notice her get out of the car let alone walk around to get your attention away from the beautiful scene you were watching. "That's fine, you go ahead," you answered, glancing up at her face.

Wanda turned around and made her way towards the clerk, the cool winter breeze ruffling her coat and hair. Your attention was now focused on the woman, how her smile stretched from ear to ear, her mannerisms like how she would play with the ring on her finger while speaking to someone, or how she would partially bite her lip while thinking of a response to a question in conversation.

Your hand automatically reached for your bag and pulled out your camera. You stepped out of the car and shot some candid photos of Wanda, capturing her elegance. As Wanda finished up, you took pictures of the rest of the scene you were so enthralled in before Wanda had caught your attention again. Once you were satisfied, you went back into the car and wrote your name onto the foggy window.

"Dirtying my car I see," Wanda teased, making you tense up. "I'm sorry, I'll wipe it-"

"I'm just kidding, you're so uptight! Let loose! I don't bite," Wanda assured you, but you still held your breath around her. You didn't want her to think badly of you, to set her off in any kind of way even though you barely know this woman. You responded to her with a weak smile to exemplify that you understood her suggestion, you reprimanded your subconscious for looking into her enchanting eyes.

She got into the driver's seat once again, only her left hand gripped the steering wheel while her right hand rested on her lap. After another 20 minutes, you arrived at her home. It was evening by the time you got there, the sunset earlier in the winter, but the area around her room was beautifully lit. It was just as you imagined, a large estate with a grand yard filled with all kinds of bushes and flowers surrounding it.

"Wow," you gawked in amazement. You both entered and your head swiveled to take in all of the details perfectly situated around her home. Your eyes lingered at a family portrait of her, her twin children, and what appeared to be her husband, a tall man who had a strained smile, forced, no true happiness lying beneath it. There was no one in the home, was what you thought at first until you heard the giggles of children emanating from upstairs.

"Billy! Tommy! What are you doing?" Wanda shouted, her hands on her hips facing to look up the spiral staircase in the direction of the laughter. "We're just playing, Momma!" one of them shouted back from the bedroom.

Wanda turned back to face you and sighed. "They can be a handful, but I'm just glad they have one another to keep each other entertained." You nodded in understanding, you had younger siblings who were reckless little misfits that you had to take care of, so you knew exactly what it was like.

You noticed a beautiful grand piano located in a room beside the dining area and your legs automatically took you towards it. You hand caressed the top, you had never seen such a luxurious piano, you've only ever played cheap upright ones. "Can you play?" you asked Wanda, your eyes still admiring the ivory keys.

"Sadly, I cannot. My husband can, but he hasn't touched it in years," Wanda confessed, a twinge of disappointment in her tone. "Can you?"

"I can, but I'm not the greatest," you chuckled dryly. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that, y/n because now I'm going to need to hear you play for me," Wanda smirked and walked over to you and the piano. "Oh gosh, I'd rather not. My hands probably have lost their ability and my voice-"

"You sing, too?! Now I must hear you play and sing!" Wanda was elated, she leaned on the piano as your face heated up. You sighed knowing that you were a guest and you brought nothing to give, not even a bottle of wine. "Since I didn't bring you a gift for inviting me to your home, this can be it," you grinned nervously as you slowly sat on the bench and placed your hands on the keys.

Your fingers automatically played a run, completely captivating Wanda at the effortless ability. You cleared your throat and began to sing.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. Everybody falls in love somehow. Something in your kiss just told me, that sometime is now." You carried on singing, your voice lulling Wanda as she swayed to the song. She crept over and took a seat next to you on the piano bench as you continued playing, trying not to stutter your words when you felt her leg brush yours.

"Everybody loves somebody sometime. And though my dreams were overdue, your love made it all worth waiting for someone like you," you slowed the song and the piano still hummed the last note. Wanda placed her hand on your thigh and whispered, "that was absolutely beautiful." You shuddered by the touch and curled your toes.

"My dad taught me how to play. He would always sing this song to my mother. He loved her so much, I swore that I one day want to love someone the way my dad loved my mom. When he passed, I would play this song for my mother in his place, but then she started to lose her memory and now she stays with my younger sister in New Haven," you explained solemnly. Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, her heart ached for you. She moved her hand from your thigh to your face, cupping your cheek.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I am certain, however, with that talent and song you can win over anyone's heart in under five seconds," she smiled and kissed your forehead. You blushed and looked deeply into her green eyes. You tried to capture this moment into your subconscious. She was no longer in her coat, just her beige dress, a pearl necklace, no gloves, and the same red lipstick. Her mouth was slightly open, she glanced down at your lips and began to close the gap.

The front door of the house abruptly opened and a man wearing a suit hiding underneath a black coat walked inside with a brown briefcase. Wanda quickly dropped her hand from your face and stood up. You turned away from her as well. He took notice of the tension and scowled.

"Wanda. You brought your antics into our home. My home. Under my roof. Already moved on from Monica and now you've brought someone else!" he fumed and aggressively put his briefcase down. "Don't yell in front of her, Vision! We can discuss this privately," Wanda hissed at him.

"I'm taking the kids to Florida with me for Christmas, right now," he announced as he ran upstairs to their room. "You're what?! You didn't discuss this with me!" Wanda yelled at him running after him. He soon was holding each kid in either arm and pushed Wanda out of his way. "You can't do this!" she began to cry, but he ignored her, anger clouded all around him. There was a car outside with a chauffeur, Vision put them in the backseat. You stood there watching this all unfold, unsure of what to do.

You rushed over to the front door to see Wanda sobbing while on her knees on the porch as the car drove off. You crouched down and embraced her, she put her arms around you and burrowed her face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Her sobs wracked her entire body, her breathing was uneasy, so you rubbed circles on her back. She eventually calmed down and pulled away.

"I'll drive you to the train station," she said with her broken voice. You nodded your head, she needed time to herself and you were right now a reminder of what she just lost. "I'll call a cab, you should go get some rest," you responded and held her hand in yours. "Are you sure?" Wanda replied. You gave her a smile, which she took as her answer.

The cab arrived within ten minutes, Wanda waved goodbye, no hug or kiss on the cheek. You waved back through the window and the view of her became smaller and smaller as the cab drove off into the night.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #fanfic #marvel #avengers #wanda x reader

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

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Pining John Pt. 2

Please if you have any pining!John fics (like Sherlock accidentally hurts him like he did molly with the Christmas gift) I would absolutely love that!! Thank you so much😊(submitted by @thediamondwoman)

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: hi! New Johnlocker here, this is a fic rec ask, but do you have any fics where John is pining/suppressing/ignoring his feelings for Sherlock? Preferably after TRF, and without Mary in the way, and a slow burn one (sorry for all the preferences just one with pining John would be fine) and thank you for being a blog currently reading all your metas and they are amazing <3333

@i-love-books-and-so-do-you asked: hullo!! *waves* i’m in the mood for some pining john, so i was wondering if you have any good ones? preferably with a happy ending

and may i just say your blog is GORGEOUS like all your fic recs *chef’s kiss* thank you for the literal best johnlock content <33

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Hi Lovelies!!!

First of all, thank you for your love for my lists! LOL! These asks just keep coming in, so it looks like I’m overdue for another pining John list!!

That said I do actually have pining John fics, and enough to start a second list! As I re-read fics, I’m able to keep adding all the old ones I didn’t tag ages ago to lists, so that’s fun, hahah. Hope you guys don’t mind me just combining all the pining into one list, hahaah. I get more fics that way LOL!

Enjoy, and feel free to add your own, friends!

See also:

Pining John

Pining Sherlock || [MOBILE FRIENDLY VERSION]

Mutual Pining

Mutual Pining Pt 2

John’s Away (and Sherlock’s Not Okay)

Caffeine and Adaptive Programming by DemonicSymphony (E, 5,540 w., 1 Ch. || Androids AU / Bond Fusion || Android Sherlock, Coffee Shop AU, Pining John Hinted Bond / Q, Toplock) – Sherlock is a coffee shop android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #pining john #pining idiots #my fic recs #submission #i-love-books-and-so-do-you #long post

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pallasperilous · 4 years

Text

Boneless Wings

{AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares.

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now.

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it.

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1. Bird mites. Holy shit.

2. Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

3. Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube.

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose.

4. The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is.

5. When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

6. Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

7. After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning.

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can.

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit.

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8. No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.”

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry.

9. Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

10. Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

11. You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice.

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex.

12a. One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV.

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

12b. The less said about angel molt, the better.

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit.

13. There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings.

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

14. Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas.

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

15. Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement.

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

16. So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon.

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously).

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off.

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17. For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration.

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening.

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack.

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel.

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy.

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato.

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually.

18. There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything.

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

19. Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership.

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns.

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

20. Seriously though, the bird mites.

Gross.

#deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #wingfic #or maybe...#wingsquick #spn fanfic #spn fanart #spn crack #sorry everybody #now with pictures!#pallasperilous art #pallasperilous fic #pallasperilous crack

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multiplefandomsblog · 4 years

Note

your roommate hcs are so cute, can i request for naib, demi, tracy, andrew, kurt, patricia, and victor?

:0 holy crap yes! I’m so glad you enjoyed the roommate hcs!! Me and the other mods hope you enjoy these! Thank you for requesting :))

(i added melly because why not? lmao hope you don’t mind.)

Part 1!

Naib Subedar

This man deadass didn’t know you were living with him

Even when people told him about it, he wasn’t rlly paying attention and didn’t rlly care

Your stuff in his room? He thought it was his or someone just broke into his room and left it there

When he saw you on the toilet however, he just freaked out.

“Why the hell are you shitting in my room!?” “Your room? I’ve been living here for 2 months!”

Once he found out you lived with him, he made sure you knew what was his and what was yours

also, since he’s very protective of his things-- you being one of them-- he would totally get jealous if he caught you tallking to someone that wasn’t him.

he would probably give you the silent treatment and act like a pissy baby

He hates it when you touch his stuff

especially his photos, the photos were special to him because they were of him and his army friends.

You’d sometimes catch him looking at the photos with a longing in his eyes, it was highkey sad.

having you live with him meant lots and lots of training

he made sure you were always prepared for matches and that you don’t get downed early

when you got downed early however, He would scold you but he would still rescue you anyways because he’s soft

“You’re such an idiot, you’d better do better next time! Or else I’ll kick your ass.”

one time he got cocky while kiting because you were watching him

he forgot to turn on his elbow pads and face palmed into the wall.

“...You saw nothing.” He turned around, a bit woozy from hitting his head on a wall. He flipped the hunter off before stumbling wooshing away

When you first get to know naib, he’d probably come off as intimidating and menacing

but once you get to know him--the real him--, you start to understand that even though he may be tough on you, its because he wants you to be the best

he has good intentions

During matches he’d let you handle yourself and made sure you didn’t rely on him too much

One time you needed to shower but you ran out of your shampoo so you used his.

When he questioned you, you simply responded “What? You don’t need it anyways, you’re bald!”

He didn’t rescue you the next round.

should’ve seen that coming

though he forgives you when you braid his luscious long existent hair for him

Kurt Frank

The amount of times you almost stepped on this man is astronomical.

he would constantly be in his tiny form because he would lose a lot of his things

his tiny form helped him find his things easily

Though when you first moved in with him, you had no idea what his ability was

so when you first saw a tiny version of your roommate you thought he was just a weird doll

until you heard him say a tiny, “Hey can you move your ginORMOUS foot? You’re stepping on my book.”

You fucking screeched and took off your shoe to try and kill him

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

After he explained to you about his ability you calmed down a bit and spared this tiny man but only this time!

Frank loves books, he probably filled your shared rooms with stacks on stacks of books

You’d often see him tiny, waving at you while you’re decoding

Once you overhead Kurt arguing with First Officer over who was the rightful owner of some sort of treasure map

They fought for days,

kurt would constantly complain about it to you

turns out it was just a game on the back of a Cereal box.

sorry this is short like kurt

Tracy Reznik

Would be a little awkward at first, but the awkwardness slowly fades away when you both make bad jokes

she gives me childhood best friend vibes

Has her doll sitting in the corner of your shared room room, it’s lifeless eyes scare the living shit out of you in the dark you try not to make eye contact, afraid it’ll curse you or smth

if she was mad at you she would move the bot in a way that looked like it was flipping you off you off in your direction before you went to bed.

Always making little robot things that are super fun to play with

Loves sharing her things. Has no problem with it

you wanna wear her clothes? sure

you want to wear her underwear? evEN BETTER-

Pulling all nighters, trying to get her machines to work like how she wanted it to work.

Would live off of kraft Mac n cheese and junk food in the modern day

Pretty hyper, chugs pink monster energy drinks while pulling all nighters, also, in the modern day

would probably be a bruh girl

Her room is a mess, covered with blueprints and scrap metal

her room is practically a safety hazard

Sometimes she dresses her doll up a bit, putting wigs or her old clothes on it (which scares you half to death)

Once she made her doll dress up like her

and you almost went up to it to ask what it wanted for dinner.

Has a photo of her and her dad

You never wanted to bring it up, worried it might make her upset :(

Sometimes she’d feel really guilty about being downed in the first 30 seconds

please comfort her, she feels super bad

She always relies on you to rescue her

She gets really happy and thankful when you body block for her but she still gets a bit concerned when you do it randomly

“i wasn’t even kiting-” “Protecc the mecc.”

Demi Bourbon

Always out at the bar

Smells like alcohol constantly

tipsy 24/7

she’s never 100% sober

You have to hold her hair out of her face when she comes back to your shared room to hurl

Likes bringing back hard vodka or weird flavoured alcohols back for you guys to get wasted try together

Room is bit cluttered, but she doesn’t have much in her room since she’s always out in bars or matches

Usually latches onto you like a parasite when she’s drunk.

it gets a bit awkward when her face is a bit close to yours,

“Are we about to kiss right now-? BLeurghgrhgherrgh.”“...*audible sigh*”

You’d go to her expecting her to heal you like a normal person but no

instead she shoves dovlin down your throat

She likes to do your makeup, and always adds a matching beauty mark

unless you don’t wear makeup, then she’d ask you to do hers

always loves how she looks afterwards

more than sometimes demi would get into bar fights,

so you know she’s about to throw hands when she starts takes off her earrings-

10/10 would fight for you <3

She’s gives me cool wine aunt vibes

Probably a lesbian too (check out our Demi smut fic ;))

Or bi, idk

Just straightn’t

She’s really good at hyping you up, especially when you’re taking shots

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG-”

Andrew Kreiss

Would be very shy at first, opens up a little when you get to know him

Totally a night owl, can’t sleep at night from all the guilt and “what if’”s

if you see this baby awake at night, hug him, he really needs it

You’ve never seen the other side of his face

How does he see with hair in his eyes?

He’s albino, which is super dope

Sometime you fear he’s thinking about burying you

You always see him thwacking Luca with his shovel

Barely talks

Room is moderate

He doesn’t want you to find out too much about him

He may seem bland, but he loves sweet food

You’d bake him cookies and other sweets

He’d act as if he’s not embarrassed and brush it off

“Are you blushing?”“No, I-I’m sunburnt.” “On your face?” “....I stare into the hot red sun sometimes because it eases me.”

to keep his lie going, every time he catches you staring at him he would fry his eye balls by staring into the sun until you left

partially the reason why he can’t see well

When he’s not looking, you stare at him while he’s eating the stuff you made because he looks so happy :’)

One time you found him down in the dumps so you made him a cup of coffee, and when you handed it to him you said-

“Depresso espresso?”

*sniff* ”..are you oka-” “IM NOT CRYING, YOU ARE”

he actually cried

it was such a nice gesture(?), that he started ugly crying

You’d ask him if he wanted hugs during matches when you see him get stressed

He’d be flushed and kinda confused

hug... him? why tho lmao

he’d definitely agree tho, to be fair, with some hesitation

if y’all ever cuddled in bed, i feel like he’d be a little spoon

poor boy needs the comfort, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be little spoon tho

he just wants to be close to you

Victor Grantz

You love playing with his dog, Wick

Super nice and polite, but a little guarded

The type to be too afraid to call people out when they do something wrong but would totally trash them in his head

You write him little letters everyday and leave them on his bed to make him happy :))

He’d a be a little spoon

Wick would always join you guys while cuddling

Kisses would be soft and gentle

Usually sends you the first letter in matches

Loves to cuddle

He bb 🥰

You always get him a birthday present AND a Christmas present

You also get a gift for Wick

He loves giving you surprise hugs

Likes to read with you while cuddling

Literally a cinnamon roll

Once he was eating a cinnamon roll

And you whispered

“C a n n i b a l i s m .”

He was very confused

and kind of scared- were you going to eat him?

Patricia Dorval

Room always smells like herbs

She could literally smoke weed and you’d think it’s some magical healing herb

it magically makes you feel better

Always there to stun the hunter when you’re ballooned

The mature one

Her room is organized, with boxes labeling what herbs and magic stuff that are in them

You were cooking dinner for the day and you accidentally used one of her fancy herbs in your soup

She didn’t realize until she tried the soup

She wasn’t mad just disappointed

She lectured you on how you shouldn’t touch her stuff or use it for cooking

Gotta admit tho, the soup was pretty good

she acts like the mom everyone wishes they had

totally the type to be like, “dude we should think this through.” before doing something risky

and then five seconds later, “cowABUNGA MY DUDES”

one time she caught kreacher leaving the mens washroom without washing his hands

seeing as she was the mother of this manor, she had to protect her children from diseases

so she yeeted her monkey skull at kreachers head, cleanly knocking him out

and everybody cheered.

Melly Plinius

When you heard melly was going to be your roomie, you couldn’t have been more excited.

you finally had a victim for the many insect pick up lines!

So you decided to make some good first impressions by waiting for her in your room.

so when she arrived to your room and greeted you, you happily greeted her back, and slipped in the pick up line.

“Hello, my name is Melly. I believe I will be your ro-?”“Yeah nice to meet you too, say, what do bees make?”

She kinda thought you were a bit rude so much for first impressions

“...Erm, honey?” she replied hesitantly

“YES DEAR?”

... okay maybe you weren’t thaaaat bad.

after that she kind of developed a teensy crush on you

so it was hard living with you because of her crush, since she was constantly flustered

you loved her reactions, she constantly got red.

it was funny watching her try to keep her cool and fail.

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maladaptive---daydreamer · 4 years

Text

No more secrets

(This is set in 6th year, no voldemort being back business)

Sunlight filtered through the dormitory windows onto your sleeping form. You had asked your older brother to teach you a charm to bewitch your windows to reflect the weather outside, growing tired for the green murk courtesy of the black lake. You fluttered your eyes, blinking the sleep from them and rolled over to check the small clock at your bedside. Despite it being the weekend your body still woke you up at 7 am like clockwork, causing you to groan in frustration and smack your bedsheets

“Some of us are trying to fall back to sleep, you know” Daphne grumbled from her bed, beside you.

“Seize the day miss Greengrass” you replied, deciding you might as well get out of bed and follow your own advice.

You kicked your sheets off and made your bed before gathering your things and heading to the prefects bathroom for a shower. You returned to the dormitory with clean hair that smelt of your apple shampoo dressed in some comfy muggle clothes you purchased. Despite their shortcomings, muggles really knew how to dress comfortably. You had stumbled across Piccadilly Circus while trying to get to Diagon Alley during the Christmas break in your fourth year while on your own. In one of the shops you had seen joggers folded on a display and just had to purchase them, they were warm and soft, perfect for cold days.

“My, my what would your pure blood ancestors say if they saw you dressed like a muggle” Daphne teased from her bed.

“Someone has to be the family disappointment don’t they” You replied, putting your clothes in the laundry basket.

“I highly doubt you’re the family disappointment, Y/N, you’re top of the class in basically everything, you’re the first prefect in your family too!” Lily said. She was easily the most positive witch in Slytherin house and hated to see you bring yourself down like that

“Well, Granger is all those things and she’s a mudblood, our parents don’t care about academics as much as you’d think they do” Pansy interjected

“Pansy, no one asked you. As I recall this was a conversation between Daphne, Lily and myself” you snapped, knowing she was attempting to remind Lily of her half-blood status.

Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes, over the last few weeks she had really been struggling to hide her dislike for you. It didn’t bother you, Pansy was a bitch to put it quite plainly. You wondered how someone could be so venomous and be content with their life.

You began to gather your things to head to the library after breakfast. 6th year meant you and your classmates were inundated with homework from all your classes. You hoped you could get ahead of your work so you could keep Sunday free.

“It’s literally Saturday, why are you voluntarily doing work?” Daphne asked, her head barely visible from under her duvet cocoon.

“If I didn’t, who would you run to at 11pm on Sunday evening because you forgot to write your charms essay?”

“You are a true friend Y/N Y/L/N”

“Hey, Y/N,” Pansy hollered

You looked at Pansy and waited for her to speak

“If you see Draco at breakfast, you mind telling him I’ll be a bit late?”

“I don’t think he’ll care Pans” Daphne replied for you

“Oh but he will, we’re going to the library to do out potions work together”

You were about to frown but stopped yourself, Draco had promised you that the two of you would write your 3 feet of parchment together. Lily caught your eye knowing how you felt about the platinum blond.

“Sure thing Parkinson” You said, with a sickly sweet smile.

You turned on your heel and went down the stairs into the Slytherin common room, despite it being only 8.30 on a Saturday morning, the common room was densely populated with slytherin students of all ages. A small group of second years were sitting on the floor playing gobstones in your path. They looked up and paled, scrambling to move out of your way.

“Scaring second years now are we Y/L/N” The voice of your friend Blaise Zabini asked.

“Me? Of course not, Zabini, I’ll leave that to you and your friends” you replied waking out of the portrait hole

“It hurts me that you think so lowly of us” He feigned hurt as he began to walk alongside you

“I apologise for hurting your feelings”

“What would your father have to say, hearing you apologise to a half blood”

“Here’s me thinking you knew me better, you already know I don’t care for the purity of blood”

“Where are you headed to after breakfast”

“The library, I’ve got a ton of homework to do”

“Have you heard about the party the 7th years are planning?”

“Nope, not that I’m interested anyway”

“This is coming from the girl who managed to get half the quidditch team drunk off fire whiskey the last time we had a party”

“What can I say, academia looks better on me”

“I can’t say I disagree with that. You should still come, bring your friends along too, it’s been a while since we all got together.”

“I’ll see if Daphne and Lily want to come along.”

The two of you had reached the door of the Great Hall

“There you are Zabini, we’ve been waiting for ages” Draco yelled from across the room

You and Blaise walked to your normal spot on the Slytherin table. He took a seat and you stood behind the bench.

“By the way, Malfoy, Parkinson said she’ll be late. Have to do the potions essay you promised you’d do with me a bit later”

“Y/N I-”

You rolled your eyes and opted to grab some sliced of toast wrapped in some tissue and go straight to the library rather than listen to whatever excuse Draco had planned to spew out.

You settled yourself near the fireplace pulling your textbooks out and laying them around you. You managed to write your charms essay, aswell as your Defence Against the Dark Arts essay and some reading for Transfiguration. You looked up at the big clock in the library and noticed it was past two, your stomach rumbled, clearly upset at the measly breakfast of 2 slices of buttered toast and some water. You gathered all your books again and stuffed them back into your bag and headed to the kitchens. The house elves were well aware of what you preferred to eat for lunch and handed it to you wrapped in a gingham handkerchief, you settled yourself by the window eating your lunch enjoying the view over the grounds.

“Y/N”

You looked up to see the face of your academic rival.

“Hermione”

“Do you mind if I take a seat?”

You shook your head and she sat down next to you.

“I was wondering if you could help me”

“Wow the great Hermione Granger needs help? From me?”

“I- nevermind it was silly of me” She got up feeling flustered and began to walk away

“Lighten up, Granger, it was a joke”

“What would you do if you liked someone, but they had a girlfriend and probably don’t like you back?”

“You’ve finally admitted you like Weasley huh” You patted the window sill next to you, prompting her to sit down

“What? No! Ron-“

“You do know Lavender has been slipping him love potions right?”

“But that’s against the rules! She could get expelled for that”

“She doesn’t care Hermione, if I were you I’d slip a bezoar down Weasley’s throat and see what happens after that”

“How do you know? That she’s been making him drink love potions?”

“I saw her buying some in hogsmeade”

“Well thank you for your help”

“Can I ask why you thought I’d be the best person to come to for this advice?”

“Well to be quite frank, I don’t know myself. All my other friends are Ron’s friends too, I didn’t want them telling him anything. And we’ll you’ve been the kindest to me, and I would like to think despite everything you respect me. So thank you for your help” With that she got up and began to walk away

“Hey by the way, Granger, he’d be an idiot to turn you down”

Hermione flashed you a true genuine smile before returning to the Gryffindor common room.

You finished the remnants of your lunch and headed back to the dormitory. Daphne and Lily hadn’t left their spots on their beds.

“Who’s up for a party tonight?” You asked the both of them, a wide grin across your face.

After some further information from some 7th year girls, you, Daphne and Lily found yourselves standing outside the room of requirement at 9pm. Despite being a small, debaucherous get-together, in true Slytherin fashion the three of you were still impeccably dressed. You wore a thin silver satin blouse with a plunging neckline, a blouse he bought for you over the summer, along with some fitted black paper bag trousers and a pair of Chanel flats.

The door opened to reveal a room that looked exactly like the Slytherin common room only the table in front of the fire was covered in alcohol and snacks. Blaise, Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were sat in a small group off to the side. Draco’s head snapped up when he heard the door open and he looked as though his breath catched in his throat. You knew he was trying not to stare but it was like he couldn’t move his eyes off you. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t the effect you wanted to have. Daphne ran off to a 6th year boy that she had been flirting with and you and Lily headed over to your friends.

“You made it!” Blaise exaclaimed getting up to hug you.

You saw dracos knuckles whiten even more as he gripped his butterbeer. You hugged Blaise back, after all, it was Draco who wanted to keep the two of you a secret. Blaise hugged Lily too and the two of you sat down. You made a point to sit directly opposite Draco, forcing Blaise to sit on the arm of the sofa with his arm resting on its back. A butterbeer had been forced into your hand which you sipped every once in a while whilst making conversation with your friends. You had noticed Pansy almost sticking to Draco’s side. She’d laugh overly loud at any small thing he said, even if it wasn’t funny, and failed to get Draco to dance with her numerous times.

After a while the 7th years announced the commencement of a drinking game. They placed an empty bottle on the floor and spun it, if it landed on you, you had to choose a truth or a dare, if you didnt want to do the option you selected, youd have to take a double shot of firewhiskey. You chose to sit it out, standing on the outside of the circle only a few steps away from Draco, who coincidentally also decided to sit out.

“I like the blouse” He commented, taking a swig of his butterbeer

“Thank you, it was a gift” You replied, folding your arms together to accentuate your cleavage.

“Would have preferred you wearing it with just the two of us. Goyle won’t stop staring at you.”

“Well if you offered to take me to a nicer place than a broom cupboard or the empty classroom on the fourth floor, then maybe I’d wear it”

“I was told you were talking to Granger today”

“And? Am I not allowed to speak to people?”

“Not that filthy mudblood”

“Does it really hurt your feelings that bad that she’s smarter than you despite being muggle born that the ONLY thing you can comment on is her blood status?”

“I don’t want you to be seen talking to her again”

“Newsflash, you can’t tell me what to do. I’m not Parkinson, I won’t obey you like some lost dog.” And with that you moved further away from him leaning on a column in the corner of the room.

So far people had only chosen to spill truths, some choosing to take shots instead of their truths. Daphne and her little boyfriend had been dared to enjoy 7 minutes in heaven, made possible by a random broom cupboard supplied by the room of requirement, it had been more than seven minutes and you were sure you’d get a detailed play by play back in the dorms. The empty bottle of fire whiskey landed on Charlie, he joined hogwarts in 5th year after being in America for the last few years.

“Truth or dare Charles?” Blaise asked, rubbing his hands together

“Truth”

“Who do you think is the most beautiful girl in this room?”

“Oh that’s easy, Y/N”

The whole group turned to look at you. You could see from the corner of your eye that Draco had tensed up. He himself slowly turned his head to look at you

“I have to admit, Charlie, you have great taste. You’ll go far in this world” You said, smiling.

“I’ll go as far as you want me to”

This caused the whole group to laugh and return to their game. You checked the clock and saw that it was getting close to 1am. You tapped Lily’s shoulder and she got up.

“Leaving already girls?” Blaise asked from his spot infront of the fire

“It’s getting late, parties aren’t Y/N’s scene anymore anyway” Lily replied smoothing out her skirt

“I’ll walk you back to the dormitory, I’m rather bored here myself” Draco offered, finally getting free of Pansy

“No need, Lily and I are big girls, we can get ourselves back without Filch finding us.” You replied cooly

“I insist”

“No no, Draco. Stay, enjoy the festivities”

You and Lily snuck out of the room of requirement and returned to the dorms undetected.

“What was going on with you and Draco?” She asked while the two of you were getting ready for bed

“Nothing”

“It sounded like the two of you were having a tense conversation”

“You know how Draco can be, always trying to one up everyone”

“Did you hear about Pansy and Draco?” She asked once she was comfy in her bed.

“No” you put your hair brush back in the drawer and got under your own covers

“I heard from Marietta in the year above that Parkinson was bragging about how her and Draco went on a date today. Apparently he took her to the black lake for a picnic”

“Well good for them, I hope they’re happy”

“I know you like him but maybe now she’ll stop being such a raging bitch”

“Maybe, goodnight Lily”

“Goodnight Y/N”

You weren’t crazy, you knew Draco wasn’t stupid enough to even attempt to cheat on you. Your family was just as affluent and your father was just as influential as Lucius for him to know that a cheating scandal between two of the oldest pure blood lines would not turn out well for him. Yet it did nothing to stop the anger bubbling up inside you.

You and Draco began to get closer during your 5th year. You two studied together often and you both were prefects, made to patrol the corridors at night. It was inevitable for the two of you to strike up a bond. You didnt expect your bond to become so strong that an owl would end up dropping a letter on your bed one rainy summer afternoon, with a letter from Draco enclosed about how bored he was over the holiday. The two of you sent letters back and forth, he even floo’d into your bedroom when your parents were out. On the first hogsmeade trip of the year, he asked you to join him and he asked you to be his girlfriend. However, he wanted to keep your relationship a secret. He knew that people would talk and both of your parents would find out, it would lead to talks for the future, something he was not ready for. You saw where he was coming from and agreed, you just didn’t think it would end up like this. In the beginning he tried, he really did, he’d leave cute notes in your bag, he’d hold your hand under the table, save you a seat at dinner, even sneak you into his dormitory, but a few weeks ago, it all suddenly seemed to stop. But you were sick of it. You deserved to be treated better than you were being treated right now.

You awoke on Sunday feeling slightly less angry than you did when you went to sleep. Sunday’s were the day you and Draco would lock yourselves in an old empty classroom on the fourth floor and finally get to be yourselves. You went down to breakfast and sat in your usual seat, waiting for him to make his way down. You were half way through a bowl of cereal when you noticed him walk in with his boys, and Pansy. You dropped your spoon into your bowl causing milk to splash everywhere

“Merlin’s beard Y/N!” Daphne yelled, scooching to the side

You and Lily grabbed some napkins to clean up the small spillage.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite” You deadpanned

You got up and walked past draco, purposely bumping his shoulder on your way out. It hurt you more than it hurt him but you still had a point to make.

“Jeez Y/L/N, watch where youre-” Pansy Scoffed

“Oh fuck off pansy”

“Y/N!”

You ignored him and carried on walking out of the hall. You heard his footsteps behind you and he managed to catch up to you, grabbing you by the wrist.

“What is the matter with you?” He demanded

“Me? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothings wrong with me you’re the one acting crazy”

“Firstly, I don’t like your tone. If you’re going to shout at me I refuse to listen to another word.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand what the issue is”

“My issue is YOU”

You ended up raising your voice to a volume too loud for Draco’s liking and he pulled you into a nearby storage cupboard.

“This is my problem draco, being forced to hide everything. Arguing in a fucking broom cupboard for fucks sake.” You sighed

“Y/N, you know how-“

“No, I am tired, Draco, sick and tired of hiding, of keeping secrets, of not being able to come and collapse next to you when I’m upset”

“You can still do that,”

“No I can’t, you always surrounded by one of your posse members. If it’s not Crabbe or Goyle then it’s fucking Parkinson. Did you know she’s going round telling everyone you took her to the black lake for a picnic?”

“She said what? I didn’t even see her yesterday, Blaise and I went to the quidditch pitch after breakfast.” He had a face of visible disgust on his face at the thought of people thinking him and Pansy were a thing.

“Well yeah now the whole school thinks you’re going out with Parkinson and you’re not going to say anything to stop those rumours”

“You know why, princess”

“Yeah you don’t want to think about the future. But if thinking about a future with me really scares you so much Draco, why are you still with me? Surely if you just kept yourself single, you’d have no future to worry about and no girlfriend breathing down your neck”

“You know that’s not what I mean”

“Then what do you mean? Because -” you cut him off, you were starting to get annoyed and he could sense it

“If you stopped interrupting me, I’d be able to explain my thoughts” He said calmly, placing both his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him in the eye.

“Speak then”

“Yes I don’t want to think about my future. I don’t want to think about what ministry career I’ll be forced into to keep up my family’s reputation, who I’ll be forced to call my friend for the sake of appearances, what I need to name my first born child. I don’t want to think about all the skeletons in the Malfoy family wardrobe that I’ve yet to discover. This, me and you, it’s so innocent, so pure. You get me, you see me for more than my family name. And I want to protect this. I don’t want our parents getting involved and tainting what we have.”

“It’s the only way we-”

“Interrupt me once more and I’ll hex you.”

You closed your mouth and decided to listen for just a short while more.

“However, if the key to your happiness, and the future of our relationship, is for everyone, including our parents, to find out about us. Then I will walk straight into that hall and stand on the table and announce it to the whole school.”

“You really mean that?”

He nodded

“So if your father sent you an owl tomorrow that says we have to get married in the summer...” you linked your wrists together behind his neck, swaying slightly as you looked up at him

“I’ll marry you. I would sacrifice my own life if it meant I could see you smile.”

“Bit dramatic there, Malfoy” you laughed

“You taught me well, Y/L/N”

“I’d rather you didn’t embarrass the both of us by getting up on the table. You can hold my hand though.”

“Anything for the Slytherin princess.”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss before getting out of the broom closet. Draco took your hand and held it firmly in his as you both walked into the great hall.

He started to think out loud about his breakfast but you watched for the reactions of your peers as you made your way to your table, no one was really shocked, most of them looked up and smiled excitedly before chattering to their friends, you walked past the gryffindor table and heard the words ‘bet’ and ‘owe’ get thrown about. Once you got to your friends Draco waited for you to sit down, right next to Pansy, before sitting on your other side with his arm around your waist.

“Y/L/N and Malfoy? I never saw that one coming” Blaise laughed, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

“Well get used to it, Zabini, cause you’ll be seeing it a whole lot more” You responded, moving closer into Draco’s lap.

Long gone were the days of hiding, as well as the days of Pansy Parkinson thinking she could steal your man.

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eddiesfaerie · 4 years

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Long Sleeves (part 2)

Summary: Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship (13.5k words, i dont know what to say other than im so sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, major angst, annoying fluff, mentions of divorce, affairs, age gap (between Charlie and reader, previously implied), nudes, phone sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, some size kink, pain kink(?), rough (and angry and sad) sex, dom and sub themes, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), i also mention christmas a lot at the beginning which isn't really a warning but i know not everyone celebrates it!

Part 1

A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, days, spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him everywhere.

The thousands of ‘good girls’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘fucking sluts’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, not happening) with Nicole for nearly the past year.

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

Lo-

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… façade that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

Your early Christmas presents, he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for at least another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs.

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. Magical, rewarding, fulfilling.

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion.

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so fhuuuucking good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. He tasted so good…

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- fuck.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big you are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“Yeah, yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“Yeah, I’ll be your fucking Daddy. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, Daddy? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up.

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

JANUARY - BROOKLYN

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking tons of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, Daddy?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘fuck!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t most definitely do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” Daddy.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. Why were you teasing him like this?

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘love you, dad.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘go’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, finally, making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. Why would you say no? How could you?

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. Who you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... Daddy.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably Charlie; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet.

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“Please.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“Fuck, your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... please.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- FUCK!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“Good girl.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.”

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?

Did she stay the night, Dad?

Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?

You and Mom’s bed, Dad?

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

MARCH - BROOKLYN

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down.

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

Do you think the backyard is big enough?

What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?

Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest.

What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?

What about the guest bedroom?

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had that conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late.

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

You kind of were.

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre?

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago.

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. Was this it?

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

Charlie was kissing you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

Love.

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of stupid fucking love. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears.

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

Fuck.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

Eventually…

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you.

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, please.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, asking.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, please.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress.

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“Please.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t.

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

Fuck, what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“Fuuuck, perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, please-”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and slightly dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘fuck’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, fucking into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. Hot, wet, slippery. Charlie sniffles.

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in you.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. You love him.

“I do, Charlie I-I do. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, Charlie.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- shit, Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, fuck!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- fuck, too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“Yours.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, yours.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f-fucking cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“Fhuuuck-” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. You love him.

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. Charlie was worth loving.

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again.

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore.

tag list! @morby @shesakillerkween @gamingaquarius

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #reader insert #charlie barber x you #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber smut #long sleeves #part 2 #tw: daddy kink #cw: daddy kink #my writing

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whitttbit · 4 years

Text

Hawks x reader lemon An acceptable apology and an unexpected visit.

Warnings: This is absolute filth. Extreme dom hawks with spanking,Dom sub dynamics,a dash of angst, office smut, and just general smut. It's my first fic so try not to judge to harshly. If you guys enjoy it I'll open requests and do more. Ps: I am incredibly nervous posting this.

You've been warned:

Dating a pro hero was never easy. They were always busy with paperwork, patrols or undercover missions. Dating the number 2 pro hero was damn near impossible. Somehow though, here you were sitting in a shapartment waiting on the winged hero to get home. Hawks was charismatic and energetic and that definitely translated to the bedroom. The sex was phenomenal and the love was passionate. He was always bringing you gifts and when he found the time he would plan out elaborate dates for the two of you that were thoughtful and fun. Lately though he had been working overtime investigating the LOV in anticipation of an attack. He wouldn't get in until long after you'd fallen asleep. He would then leave before you woke up with a gentle shake and apologetic kiss on the forehead. The commission had given him a positively brutal schedule and he hadn't had a day off in over a month since accepting the mission.

You were trying your best to stay awake but sleep finally won you over and you had drifted off to sleep on the sofa. The hero had planned to be home for dinner but ended up sending an apology text last minute after receiving some new Intel on the case. As you drifted into the welcoming arms of your slumber the dinner you had spent hours making was still on the table. It had long since gotten cold but you hadn't been able to bring yourself to put it away. It was well after midnight when the hero finally landed on the balcony of the penthouse, shaking the snow from his tired wings and sliding the door open. He glanced around and his eyes landed on your silhouette on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Sighing he turned to grab something quick to eat from the kitchen and saw the table set for two. His gut tensed and he felt the sense of guilt that he had become all to familiar with.

"damn....." He mumbled as he started to clear the table putting the delicious looking food into Tupperware and loading the dishwasher. Once everything was clean he walked quietly over to you and scooped you up taking you to your shared bed. He knew he'd have to make it up to you somehow but all he could think of right now was sleep.

Five thirty had come far to soon for Keigos liking as he slammed his hand onto the alarm clock by your bed. He stood up and showered and got ready to go back to work. You began to wake as he left the bathroom and the florescent light hit your eyes. Sleepily you groaned and looked at him in his hero costume ready to leave you yet again.

"Kei?"

"Shit! sorry angel I was trying to be quiet. Go back to sleep, Ill text you around lunch." He walked over and gave you a deep apologetic kiss as he tucked the blankets around you.

" You have to work again? Its Sunday and you said you might be able to get off."

" I know but I've got to complete the paperwork today and its a mountain on my desk. I'm sorry. I should be off someday soon though and ill make it up to you."

" You always say that." You hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly but you were sleepy and annoyed. Keigo blinked and stared at you for a moment before finally speaking.

" I know angel but the mission is almost over. It's literally just paperwork. I've gathered all of the Intel that the commission requested."

"Fine. Ill see you tonight I guess." You rolled over feeling slightly guilty at how cold your words had been. Sighing Keigo walked out to the balcony and headed to his office across the city.

You awoke a few hours later and went into the kitchen to get breakfast. You saw your phone on the counter and saw that he had texted.

BIRDBOY: You awake love?

You hastily typed a quick message.

Y/N: Yes, do you want me to bring you lunch?

BIRDBOY: No, I don't really have time I've got a budget conference call at lunch and still have to complete my reports.

God, why did he even bother texting you back. He might as well be dating the commission. Then a thought popped into your head. It was kind of mean but he deserved it. You took off your leggings and t-shirt and threw on some red lacy panties he had bought you for Christmas and a matching bra and tousled your hair a bit snapping a quick aerial picture.

Y/N: But I miss you daddy...

*attachment*

You sat on the couch eagerly waiting for him to reply. It took a few minutes and he had started typing and stopped several times.

BIRDBOY: Angel, what are you doing? You know not to send me pictures at work. It's not nice to get daddy worked up before a business call.

Y/N: Well its not nice to leave me this wet either.

You knew that you were pushing it. His daddy kink always put him in his dom head space and testing him wasn't always a good thing. He could be positively relentless with his punishments if you went to far.

BIRDBOY: You are pushing it baby.

Y/N: Well you aren't here so I guess ill just have to take care of it myself.

You knew that would do it. He was going to lose it, but still you had already hit send so no turning back now

BIRDBOY: Don't you fucking dare. You know the rules! Don't test me darling.

You left him on read and went to the bedroom to grab some black thigh high stockings and a garter belt. Putting on some heels and a long pea coat. This was possibly the gutsiest thing you'd ever done but you were going to pack up last nights dinner and take it to him at work. He deserved to suffer a little bit after all. Grabbing a scarf you hailed a cab and made your way to the office ignoring your phone which was buzzing with angry texts at your lack of response no doubt.

As you pulled up to the tall silver building you felt yourself getting more and more nervous. You were practically naked under a coat and going to your boyfriends job. This was dangerous and uncharted territory. Keigo always took his job so seriously. As you watched the floor number flash on the screen in the elevator you felt more anxious. Finally it dinged and the doors slid open. You made your way to his secretaries desk. Clearing your throat.

"Hi Jamie....um I brought Hawks lunch" She beamed up at you and tapped her desk.

"He is about to be on a call, if you leave it here ill make sure that he gets it." Part of you wanted to do it. Somehow you mustered up some nerve though.

" Um.... actually I was hoping to give it to him myself.....we were planning on eating together. Ill just sit quietly in his office until hes done. He's expecting me." You looked at her praying that she wouldn't check.

" Oh! okay he must have forgotten to tell me, go on in." Oh thank god, You walked to the big steel door and turned the handle. Walking in you saw him staring at papers and biting a pen. He didn't even look up.

"Jamie, I'm about to be in a meeting whats up?"

You cleared your throat and waited. He looked up and dropped the pen staring.

" I um...brought you lunch"

" Angel, I told you I couldn't have lunch today what are you doing here?" He studied your body like a predator shaking and looking down you began to speak.

" Um.....well..... I thought id just bring it I can go. " Placing the basket on the ground you turned finally losing nerve. What were you thinking. Coming to his office like this? In a flash of crimson he was over to you grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. He cupped you chin forcing you to look up into his golden irises as he spoke.

"I told you to stay home and wait. Impatient are we?" you grabbed the buttons of your coat to keep him from discovering your secret and kept eye contact trying not to break.

" I just want you to eat that's all you jerk."

"Tch- So disrespectful, its sir or daddy not jerk. Now go sit on the couch until after my meeting. It seems we need to have a little chat, and since you can't seem to respond to my texts or use proper honorifics today you'll have to spend that time coming up with a damn good reason I shouldn't teach you a lesson when we get home." He smirked and pointed to the bright red couch on the opposite side of his office and turned to sit back at his desk.

What a cocky asshole. He was so full of himself sometimes. Still though considering everything you'd done already you figured that you better not push it so reluctantly you complied.

" Good girl. Now don't you dare move a muscle until I finish this call do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes....sir."

He smiled as his phone rang. He took the call and began going over expense and damage reports.

-One hour later-

You had been sitting here for an hour. This asshole had had several openings to end the call but he just kept talking. He would smirk at you every time. God this was torture. Why did he have to be such an ass sometimes? Finally after the fourth opening to wrap things up and he refused you decided that he deserved to suffer. He had told the guy on the phone to go over the quarterly reports one more time for his notes so you knew you had time. You stood up and his eyes darted to you and narrowed.

Slowly you undid the tie of your coat and unbuttoned it revealing your bright red lingerie and smiled at him. His eyes went so big you had to smile. You laid back on the couch and began to stroke your folds throwing your head back. You felt those golden orbs on you. suddenly you felt a feather wrap your wrists. Jerking your head up you saw him crook his finger. The feather began to pull you towards him....oh shit.

You made it to his desk and he sent one feather to lock the door and the other to sharpen and cut off your panties. He bit his lip looking at you. Reaching to the phone he hit mute.

" Now, since you don't know how to listen today here's whats going to happen." He began unbuckling his belt.

" You are going to come over here and sit that pretty little pussy on my cock and you aren't going to move or make a sound until daddy is done with his phone call got it?" He shimmied his cargo pants down revealing his throbbing cock. Gulping you looked at him

"....yes daddy....I won't make a sound."

"Good girl now come on." You shuffled over straddling his lap and lowered yourself onto his cock. He reached over to unmute the call.

The call went on talking about numbers and deadlines for a few minutes and you could feel your resolve slowly crumbling. He reached his hand between you and began lazily rubbing your clit as he continued the call. You had to bite your lip to keep the moans from escaping. You shifted your weight a bit and you felt him throb inside of you. He gave you a dangerous look and you stilled instantly. He began vigorously rubbing your sensitive nub. Fuck this man was the devil. Biting his shoulder you could feel tears welling up. You had to get some relief. This was absolute torture.Fuck you were going to cum. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped as you felt yourself nearing the edge. His ministrations abruptly stopped as he grabbed a fistful of your h/c hair and yanked your head back.

" Everything okay Hawks?" what was that?" the gentleman on the line asked. He looked at you with rage and replied.

" Everything is fine sir, I just got a paper cut. Listen, I think I've got what I need for now so why don't I finish these reports and call you tomorrow afternoon?"

" Sounds good we'll talk then." Keigo clicked the phone off and forced you to meet his gaze again.

" I said not to make a sound y/n. You are being such a brat today." whimpering apologetically you looked at him. Rolling his eyes he yanked you off of him by your hair and bent you over his desk displaying you perfectly. Kicking your legs apart he leaned down over your back and bit the shell of your ear and growled . You let out another involuntary whimper

" Does my angel want to cum?" you nodded feeling yourself turning to jello beneath him.

" I can't fucking hear you slut."

"...yes sir" was all that you could choke out

" Not good enough. Lets teach you some manners first." He reached over to his phone and hit the speed dial for his secretary.

"yes sir?"

" Jamie, why don't you head out to lunch for a bit on me. Use the company card. We both deserve a break. I'm going to eat here with y/n."

" Thank you sir! I've been wanting to try that new sushi place!"

"Knock yourself out, you deserve it." He clicked the phone and listened until he heard her gather her things and go.

" Don't fucking move." He reached down and you heard him rustling with his clothes. Something dropped next to your face and your eyes shot open. His belt was displayed right next to your face. Leaning down again he spoke.

"Now princess you are going to count for daddy got it? You'll get five with my hand for sending me that photo, Five with my feather for not texting me back, and five with my belt for being a needy brat during my call and not listening. Do you understand?" You could feel yourself shaking.

" ..Ye..yes daddy."

A harsh slap echoed as her hit your ass with incredible force.

"o....one" you cried another slap echoed through the office

"Tu...two" the next three came so quickly you could barely keep count. There was no way to anticipate his pattern. You could feel your ass stinging already.

"Three.......fo...four...FIVVEEEEE!!!!!"

He smirked pulling out a feather and hardening it into a makeshift switch and backing up to admire his handy work. Bright red hand prints covered your ass. He Pulled back and hit you with his feather causing your entire body to lurch forward onto the desk with force.

"FUCK! one." With a swish he landed another on your thigh

"TWO!!!" It was like he was hitting you harder with each go. The last three caused more tears to obscure your vision. Dreading what was next you saw the blurred outline of the belt slide off of the desk.

" Last set angel, You okay? Remember the safety colors? Where are we at?" You felt a rush of relief as you heard the concern in his voice. Green meant good yellow slow down and crimson (your safe word) full stop. You and he both knew he'd never been this rough so he was checking in.

"st...still green daddy...g..green." You stuttered out.

" Good girl" he praised

"Okay, lets continue." He folded the belt in half an pulled back to take aim.

SNAAAAPPPPP!

The belt hit your ass ...hard.

"One" you felt so raw beneath him shaking and numb from the sting.

The rest of the hits echoed and caused you to melt into a puddle beneath him. Cunt practically drooling from pleasure and pain. He dropped the belt and positioned himself. Cock pulsating as he grabbed your hips he spoke.

" Color angel?" Eager to come you answered instantly

"Green."

" If you want it fucking beg. Beg like the needy slut you are beg for me right fucking now"

" Puh...please daddy I need it. Please fill me up I can't take it anymore" He smiled and shoved his full length in with a thrust and began to relentlessly pound you into the desk. His pace was brutal but it was like he was hitting every single nerve. A knot starting to form in your abdomen you started to whimper.

" Can I cum daddy PLEASE!!!!!!! Oh my god!" you were begging trying desperately to hold it in. He would be so angry of you came without permission.

" No." he said simply as he continued his assault

You bit your arm closing your eyes.

"Please.....daddy please." You were a blubbering mess but you didn't care you needed release.

"NOW!" he yelled. With a scream you came with him Your walls fluttering as his seed filled you with pulsating rhythmic thrusts. Collapsing on top you sweaty and spent. You both laid there in a perfect heap of ecstasy and release.

After a few minutes he picked you up and released your hands carrying you over to the couch. HE sat down placing you in his lap and began stroking your hair.

" You did so well angel. So perfect for me." he cooed all you could manage was a hum.

" I'm sorry love, i'll take tomorrow off for a personal day. I know its hard but I love you and you are so amazing for sticking with me. I love you so much." He smiled.

Sending a feather to his mini fridge to get a bottle of water he unscrewed the top and handed it to you.

"Drink this angel." You felt the cool liquid slide down your throat steadying you and bringing you back down.

"How about I take the rest of the day off. I'll fly us home, run us a bubble bath and we can order some take out from your favorite place and watch a movie. How does that sound love?"

" That sounds perfect." You rasped out

"I'm so sorry my love. I hope you can forgive me."

"I should visit more often for apologies." You said with a smile. Nestling into his chest. Everything was perfect.

#pure filth #i have no explanation #bnha smut #hawks smut dom #don't judge me okay

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josiecarioca · 4 years

Text

Waiting (one-shot)

Requested by @artisticreptilequeen and @latitsoso

Summary: Soren Snape has chosen a lonely path for himself that not even his closest friend can help him walk.

(Soren Snape x Audrey Blake, characters mentioned: Severus Snape,Evelyn Black and Eloise Snape)

Also available on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010311

Tagging: @snapescapades @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapadesafterdark @serosvit @snapecentric @hayalee8 @oliverlandomens @sleepysnapesnake @lily-themadqueen-andpinky @paracosim @the-witches-son @aikersen @violet-knox @viper-official @be-zoar @thepomegranatejuice @alwyssnpe @siriuslysircadogan @hbprincealice

…

“Soren, are you alive?”

Soren opened his eyes and looked around, searching for that familiar voice. He didn't know the place around him. It looked nice enough, though. A small livingroom, with teal colored walls covered in classic movie posters and a moon themed tapestry hanging next to a tall bookcase, loads of colorful cushions and, in front of him, a square coffe table with food and cooking themed hardcovers and a notebook filled with a round and small handwritting he knew all too well. He found himself laying on a soft white couch, “Golden Girls” was playning on the TV in front of him.

He sat up, feeling as if the room was moving around him like a ship in open sea. His clothes were sticking to him, tight and uncomfortable and his mouth was so dry he felt a bitter taste in his tongue. He didn´t remember drinking any water since right after curtain call.

Soren heard the sound of something frying, before the smell hit him. His stomach growled. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten anything that day.

“You´re getting glitter all over my couch.” that voice...Soren shook his head, suddenly angry at himself. How had he ended up here of all places? Idiot!

“Audrey, I...” he called out but his head felt like it just about split in two when he raised his voice. “I mean...how did I...”

“Here...” the voice approached. He looked up and there she was. Audrey, in a dusty pink turtleneck wool dress that hugged her plump figure, black leggings and boots, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, with thick bangs framing her roud, dollish face. She looked like she was either going to a date or coming back home from one when he, at least he assumed, crashed-landed at her door.

She held a plate in front of his face and it smelled something like heaven is supposed to smell.

“This is what you eat when you're flat on your arse drunk, if I recall correctly. Rashers, eggs benedict and your mother's cheddar, chive and potato pancakes. Right?”

“You...know how to make mam´s pancakes? ” he smiled, hoping foolishly that small talk would delay the earfull he was about to get. “She never gave anybody this recipe. Not even my cousins.”

“I lived with your parents for a whole year remember? I've seen auntie Lyn make this more times than I can count.”

Even though he felt like somebody had taken an axe to his skull and split it clean in two, Soren had to smile.

“Thank you. You didn't have to.”

“I sort of did have to, though” she let out, sounding tired “I found you laying on my doorstep, looking healf dead. Trust me, I was tempted to just walk around you and leave you there, but then what would I say next time I visit your parents? Besides, my landlord and neighbours wouldn't be too happy. Here, you´re going to need this. You must be dehydrated.”

She put a gallon of water on the table in fronto of him. Soren shugged nearly half of it before he could even begin to think about eating.

“Now, pray tell...what has gotten into you?” she crossed her arms and stood before him, looking far taller than her 5 feet, maybe 5'3 including the boots. Soren looked at her, pleased to notice she had put on weight. She looked like her normal self again, he thought. Last time he'd seen her she looked gaunt, almost.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Is it a normal occurence for you to prance about town drunk off you mind and pass out in front of people´s doors dressed like Beetlejuice and Dr. Frank'n'Furter's lovechild?”

“Oh, this!” Soren looked down at himself, finally remembering...

The effin' costume. Yeah, she was right. Her neighbours wouldn't be none too pleased to see a 6´2 man in full make-up wearing a leather corset-garter combo with stockings and high heels under a stripped trenchcoat passed out drunk in the hallway.

“I was...working.”

“Working? Is this an honest-to-God opera costume, or the Ministry for Magic had you go undercover in a fetish brothel?”

“Costume. The Ministry doesn´t usually have me dress up nice and sexy when they want to get me fucked. Hardly pay me as well as they should for it either.”

“What opera are you in this time around?”

“Orphée aux enfers...Our director decided to give the Kosky version a run for its money, so of course genderfuck drag was the way to go. Because why the fuck not? ”

“We're just going to pretend like you didn't love the idea...” she smirked. That was good...he hoped.

“Well, yeah, we decided to have a few drinks after the performance, and Henri thought it would be hilarious to just go out partying in full costume.”

“Who?”

“Henri Fournier...he played Orpheus”

“Of course...” Audrey, sighed, no longer amused.

“He's a riot, you should meet him.” Stop digging, Soren. She´s already mad at you, no need to act like a bufoon.

“And you should shower and change.”

“I´m afraid I don't have anything to change into...Unless, what's his name, your...”

“Ethan, his name is Ethan.”

“Yeah, him, unless he doesn´t mind me borrowing his things...”

“I´ll see if he left something here...”

“Left...I thought you two were...”

“He moved out.”

“When was that? Last we talked you we...”

“Come on, finish eating go have a shower, I'll find something for you to wear.”

“Hey, Shortcake, I...” He let out without even thinking. It had been so long since he last called her that, years maybe, but somehow it just poured from his lips.

“Don't...call me that.”

“I'm sorry...I really am. About this whole thing as well, I really don't know how I ended up at your door, I would never...”

“You don't have to apologize. Just eat, take your shower and...” she sighed “...we´ll see.”

…

Soren was tripping over himself so badly Audrey had half a mind to offer help. But eventually he got himself to the bathroom. She glued her ear to the door, half expecting to hear him collapse inside. The sound of the water running reassured her enough to step away and try to find something for him to wear, hoping Ethan had forgotten at least a pair of shorts or something.

Typical Soren to put her in this situation without even thinking. He never did think, did he? Just did whatever he wanted to do and everything else be damned. Nevermind that his parents were constantly worried sick about him, that his sister had to keep calling him to remind him he had a family and he should go see them sometime. Audrey was almost sure neither his father nor his mother knew what he was up to.

That he was spying for the. ministry.

His father would never allow it.

Audrey had been only a spectator, entirely foreign to their world of magic and wars no one of her kind was supposed to know, but she knew well enough, apparently even better than Soren, that it was a disastrous idea for the son of Severus Snape to be a spy. To collect inteligence about the very same criminals who still had a reward out for his father's head. Soren was born with a target on his back. Even as a child, Death Eaters had tried to get to him, the same with his sister, Eloise. And why wouldn't they? What better revenge on the man who brought down their leader than to harm his children? Audrey knew from hearing whispers and bits and pieces of conversations when she had lived with his parents in Glencoe, right after deciding to go no contact with her mother. She knew from what Eloise told her, in a vain, desperate attempt to get her to help knock some sense into her brother.

But Audrey also knew there was nobody on earth who could keep Soren from doing what he wanted. Sometimes she was tempted to tell Severus and Evelyn what he was doing behind their back. If they knew...They thought Soren was travelling around the world singing. A successful baritone, touring Salzburg, Paris, New York, Lord knew where else. Surely that shouldn´t prevent him from coming home now and then, however...But he would go months without showing up, so his parents, maybe, just thought that if he didn´t show up for Christmas or Easter it was because he was somewhere in a nightclub or a bar, partying. And sometimes that was true, but not always. At times, she wondered how and when they would find out, and hoped it wasn´t through some tragedy.

But...sometimes she also wondered if they didn't already know. If they were just waiting for him to finally be honest with them. Maybe neither Severus nor Evelyn could bring themselves to believe Soren would do that to them, so they acted like they didn't suspect, when in reality, they knew. Maybe they were just hoping he'd show himself worthy of their trust. Just waiting for him to come around.

So Audrey said nothing. It wasn't her place to, after all. If Eloise hadn´t, then she certainly had no right.

She finally found something. And old t-shirt and some pajama pants. Good thing Ethan was tall, she thought. This would do for Soren to at least make it back home, or wherever he was staying in London. Come to think of it...She shook her head and left the clothes on the bed where he could find once he was done showering.

“Soren?” She called once the water stopped running and she could hear him in her bedroom.

“Yeah?” he sounded a bit more sober.

“I'll call your sister, do you have her girlfriend's number? Maybe they can pick you up.”

Soren didn't answer answer immediately. Instead he took his time to get dressed and came back to the livingroom, sat on the couch and took another swig of water from the bottle.

“So, should I call her?”

“I would literally rather you hand me over to a dementor.”

“Maybe if I knew how. Eloise is my next best choice.”

“Eloise will never let me hear the end of it.”

“She wouldn'r be wrong, now would she?”

He didn't answer. He just made that face. That face he put on when he knew he was wrong, when he knew he had no good excuse. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards in an odd, clumsy smile, and his nostril flared slightly as he breathed out, then he looked away. Thinking of the next joke, of the charming comment that would deflect questioning, the next change of subject. Had been that way since he was a boy. Soren always knew when to leave an argument well enough alone. This way he wouldn't have to admit he was wrong.

“As soon as my head doesn´t feel like the the 1812 overture is playing on surround sound inside my skull, I can see myself out.” she shrugged with that devil may care grin that could get him whatever he wanted.

Audrey sighed. She didn´t have the energy to argue, And true to be told, if she hadn't found him passed out drunk at her door after nearly a year of no contact whatsoever, she would be happy he was there. Wasn´t this what they used to do, back when things were different? Staying up at night, huddled up on the couch, watching old TV programmes reruns till the wee hours of the night? She missed that. She missed having Soren around, she missed his stupid jokes, his impromptu performances. She missed him singing “Largo al factotum” early in the morning as he shaved, his voice filling her bathroom till the upstairs neighbours complained.

But she didn´t miss what came with it. She didn´t miss the disappearances, the weeks and months without a single phone call, the excuses, the worry, the panic...

“You already ruined my couch with all that sodding makeup” she sighed, sitting next to him “Might as well spend the night. But you´ll have to be out before noon. I´m working the lunch shift this week.”

“How's that going? Mam told me you made it to sous-chef.”

“Yeah, which sounds impressive until you realize it just means I'm the first in line to be verbally abused when Bastianinni wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I worked with a Bastianinni once...It was for the best sharp knives are not part of our line of work, or the whole cast would have used him for target practice, down to the children's choir. When a tenor decides to be a diva, oof...”

“So, you´ve been talking to your mother?”

“Yeah, I called her and dad last week from Salzburg...to apologize for not showing up for Christmas again. She told me you were there.”

“I was. I assume that's how you got my address...”

“I...I mean...is not like she” Soren stammered like a little boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

“Did you really think your mother would give you my address if I didn't tell her it was ok?” Audrey smiled “I´m just surprised you asked.”

“Why wouldn't I ask?”

“You tell me...For the past four years I´ve seen more of your parents and your sister than I´ve seen you. And you don't call anybody, just go off for months on end...”

“You know why that is...”

“I do. That´s why I don't wait for you anymore. It's pointless. But then when I give up waiting, you decide to show up.”

“Is not like I planned to just...”

“You never do.”

“Audrey, I...”

“I´ll get you a pillow and some covers, it's getting late.” She couldn't let him speak. If he started he'd take her in again. And before she knew it, she would be waiting again...for a phone call, a message, waiting for that moment she'd finally be fully a part of his world. A moment that would never come, no matter how long she waited. Not for her and not for anybody else. Soren had chosen a rocky path that only fit the steps of one person: himself. She couldn´t walk with him, and it would be fooolish to wait for him to come back any time soon.

“You said you were working lunch shift tomorrow.” the sweetness on his voice reached her as she got up from the couch, disarming. “Can´t you stay a little while longer?”

#Snapedom #Soren Snape #The Soren Snape chronicles #Soren Prince Snape #Audrey Blake #Soren x Audrey #angst #severus snape #evelyn black #Eloise Snape #The Snape siblings

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tiredb0igivemesugars · 4 years

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The Best Christmas

Summary: the reader doesn’t like Christmas but their boyfriend Peter wants them to have the best Christmas ever.

Pairing: gender neutral!reader x Peter Parker

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: some swearing, drunkness and sexual themes mentioned.

Notes: So it has literally been forever since I posted anything but here’s a little something for Christmas. Sorry for any errors!

The last school day before Christmas break starts was officially over. Walking home now in the cold New York weather, you could see how your school got smaller and smaller. You dragged your feet along the pavement. The weather had been unsteady for the week, going as low as 20 on the coldest days, there were a few warmer days after those, causing the snow to melt and create very slippery ice all over the place. It was snowing again, a thin layer of snow already covering the ice. The small rocks that were spread across the streets to make them less slippery were your source of entertainment for the way home. You kicked the small rocks forward with your dragging feet, creating long marks on the snow, you smiled to yourself. It was nice to have a break from school since who the hell likes school, but you weren’t that thrilled about Christmas. You had been called the grinch by your friends as a joke since you pretty much hated Christmas, you just didn’t get it. The whole idea of it. Your boyfriend Peter on the other hand was the most Christmas person you had ever met, he was asking you what you want for Christmas in September for christ’ sake. Peter had been shocked when he found out that you didn’t celebrate Christmas and he made it his life mission to make you have the best Christmas in your life. Speaking of Christmas presents, you had no idea what to get Peter, you tried to ask your friends and even some of the Avengers what you could get him, but all of the ideas seemed rather silly and unnecessary. You would personally love something useful for Christmas and honestly, a useful present seemed the best and safest, which begged the question: ”What does Peter need?”

”Y/n!” You heard the familiar voice of Peter Parker yell. You turned around to see him sprinting across the ice, making no effort in not trying to fall, which he did do. He fell, flew across the air towards you before his stomach hit the ground, right by your feet. ”Hi,” was all Peter said when he saw you, now much closer. ”Don’t run on the ice,” you said as you helped Peter stand up and began walking with him. Your hand found its familiar place within Peter’s. ”Any Christmas plans?” Peter asked. You sighed before answering. ”No. Just a regular day for me,” you said, knowing well that Peter was aware of your plans, he must be working on something. ”It’s not a regular day anymore, you’re spending Christmas with me!” Peter exclaimed as he jumped in front of you, almost falling, again. You reached forward a little to help Peter restore his balance and continued your way forward, ”I guess I’ll come since I have nothing better to do. Do I have to wear something nice?” You finally gave in. ”Nothing too nice, like what you’d wear to a job interview,” Peter explained, more calm this time. You nodded.

Peter’s home smelled nice, it always did. Aunt May burned a lot of Christmas scented candles in the apartment, which kind of ruined the original smell of the place, but you didn’t complain. She greeted the two of you by yelling from the kitchen when you entered Peter’s home. ”Hi Aunt May! Y/n is going to stay over for a couple of hours,” Peter yelled. ”Okay, keep the door cracked!” May yelled back. The idea was to study but knowing Peter, you doubted it. You could maybe be able to do one math equation and read one chapter of some subject before Peter came up with something else. Last week it was you throwing something at him while he had his eyes closed, the idea behind this was to test his spidey-sense. But this week, it was going to be something different, you could see it in him. When he sat a little closer to you than usual on the floor when he loomed over you for a little longer as he reached over you to grab a book. You were sure of it when he placed a hand on your thigh. ”Peter,” you finally said, not really knowing how you were going to continue. You had kissed before, made out, dry humped each other, but you had a feeling Peter was after more today. You weren’t opposed to the idea, but his aunt was home, his door wasn’t even closed. Peter closed the book that was laid out in front of you and threw it somewhere in the room. He sat before you, his hand now on your cheek, caressing it. ”What?” He answered, looking almost smug. ”What are you after?” You asked, staring at him with tired eyes. ”Do I need to be after something if I want to kiss my darling?” Peter asked, trying to act innocent. You smiled a little, finding it heartwarming when he called you darling. ”Okay fine, but just one kiss. Then we’ll continue with our homework,” you gave in. Peter smiled as he placed his lips on yours, now both hands framing your face.

You returned the kiss, letting Peter’s tongue enter your mouth, but not too much. You felt Peter’s other hand leave your face, grabbing your waist. He pulled you towards him, that’s when you broke off. ”No I’m not going to sit in your lap, I’ll crush you,” you whined, already knowing you’d gone too far, now things needed finishing. Peter blew a raspberry with his mouth as he pulled you into his lap ”I’ve been crushed by a building before. You’re a feather,” he said as he sweetly kissed your cheek. You tried to support your weight with your knees, but Peter noticed what you were doing and made you settle down. ”Peter I’m going to get take out, what do you guys want?” May yelled from the front door. Peter looked at you, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. ”Just something with chicken is fine,” you almost whispered. ”Lot’s of chicken, all they can spare!” Peter yelled, earning a small smack from you. The front door closed, May had left, leaving you two alone.

Peter’s lips returned to yours, now hungrier. His hands roamed you up and down your sides. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers tugged on his hair. He eventually moved from your mouth to your neck, breathing heavily he nibbled on your neck, you were glad you brought a scarf along. It was like electricity, shooting throughout your body. You didn’t even realise what kind of noises you were letting out until Peter called your name. ”What?” You asked, out of breath. ”The bed,” he said, more of a question even if it wasn’t structured in that way. Before you had the chance to even think about what to answer, the front door opened. You immediately sprinted out of Peter’s lap to sit on the bed, as far away from Peter as possible to catch your breath. ”Peter! Y/n! I’m back. They, unfortunately, said that they can’t give me all their chicken but I got enough for a family of five so come dig in!” Aunt May yelled as she swung through the apartment to place to food on the table. ”Yeah we’ll be out in a minute,” Peter yelled. You both needed a minute, you needed a scarf.

Once your heart rate had gone down enough, you stood up and grabbed the scarf from your bag. ”You ready?” You asked Peter who was still sat on the floor. Peter smiled as he jumped up and grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen. Peter and May had a full-blown conversation, which might’ve been an argument, it was hard to tell but they laughed at one point so maybe not. May asked you about your Christmas plans, you explained that it was nothing special, not sure if it was okay to tell May that you had been invited to spend Christmas with Peter.

Peter walked you back home around eight. Happy was coming to get you at 5 PM the next day, that’s what Peter told you. You kissed him goodbye outside before going in. It was time to worry about what to get Peter. You stayed up late, thinking. At 2 in the morning, you got the idea, sure it was sappy but it was something. You immediately emailed a shop asking if your order would be ready to be picked up at 4 PM the next day, you knew that there was probably no hope for you to get it but at least you tried. You went to sleep around 5, beyond exhausted. You set an alarm for 3 PM so you had time to shower and get ready. When you woke up that afternoon you were shocked to find that they had answered to your email, you were happy that your boyfriend had a generic name. You agreed to pick up the bracelet with Peter's name carved to it at 4 PM.

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement, your hands were so sweaty and they were shaking. Most of the anxiousness luckily washed away when you saw Peter in the backseat of Happy's car, he came to knock on your door. "May has to work today so it's just the two of us with Mr Stark and the others," Peter smiled when you opened the door. "Oh, okay," was all you said, not sure how you were feeling. The car ride went along smoothly if you didn't count the extra 30 minutes that you were stuck in traffic. Peter had suited himself to black pants and a sleeveless sweater over a white button-up, hair slicked back. You had found a pair of plaid pants in your wardrobe and paired them with a sweatshirt, not forgetting to put a turtle neck under the shirt. "You look adorable," Peter said when he got a better look at your outfit outside the Stark residence. You blushed, also complimenting his outfit.

Thor was by the door waiting for two of you. "Spider and y/n, you're here! Took you long enough!" He said as soon as you two got closer to him. "We got stuck in traffic," Peter said as he led up inside, following Thor. He engaged himself in the conversation with Thor, leaving you to take in the sight of a house fully covered in decorations. Pepper must really love Christmas, you thought to yourself. Every avenger and non-avenger were there, you believe you even saw a glimpse of Nick Fury. Steve was drunk in the living room having a heated conversation with Falcon. Hawkeye, Bucky and Natasha were somewhere else, probably up to no good. Tony and Pepper were in the kitchen trying to get the final details for the dinner. "Y/n! Peter! You arrived!" Steve yelled from the living room. "Wanna go place the presents under the tree?" Peter asked as he turned towards you, you nodded. You had only gotten a present for Peter, and seeing the pile of presents by the tree you began to regret your decision. Maybe you should've gotten everyone a gift.

"Dinner!" Pepper yelled before you could voice your concerns to Peter. You sat next to Peter, opposite of an empty place. The long table was filled except for that one seat. Tony and Pepper on the ends of the long table, Peter on Tony's left side, Nick Fury opposite to him. Pepper had Morgan by her side along with Bruce. You eyed the table, everyone was there, except for... "Where's Loki?" you asked, wanting to see your friend. You liked how cynical he was, he understood your jokes too, even if he didn't really like you, at least that's how you felt. "He'll show, he always does," Tony said.

He wasn't wrong, Loki did show, in the empty seat opposite of you. Everyone indulged themselves with the delicious cooking that was made by Pepper. "Tony hates cooking, loathes the kitchen, but Christmases, you have to drag the man out!" Pepper exclaimed, causing a wave of laughter to go through the table. "I don't understand this," Loki said, mostly to himself. "Neither do I, never did," you said to him. He turned to look at you, surprised you heard him. "I understand this feast but this "holiday" goes beyond me," Loki continued. "Tell me about it!" You said, happy to have found someone who shared your frustration.

Both of you got lost in the conversation, almost losing the track of time. You had moved on from the dinner to dessert, now you were all just sitting and chatting, soon to be retrieved into the living room. "I mean gifts! It's so hard to buy people gifts!" You complained. Loki said something about gifts too, but you didn't hear what since there was suddenly yelling happening. Drunk Steve was picking a fight with Natasha. "Why is he drunk?" You asked Peter. "He doesn't like Christmas," Tony answered before Peter had the chance to. "And from what I gather, you don't either," Tony said. "It's just not my holiday. We've never celebrated it in my family," you explained as plainly as you could. "You never told me that you have never even had a Christmas!" Peter suddenly yelled.

Suddenly everyone was turned to you. "You've never had a Christmas?" Pepper asked, shocked. "What? It's just Christmas," you said, feeling how your face was changing colour from the attention. "But we have to open presents now then," Pepper continued. Everyone rose from the table. Bucky with a little hop in his steps, he liked Christmas, he was even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Morgan absolutely demanded to be the one to give out the presents. You wanted to ask if Morgan needed help with reading the names but decided against it. She was Tony Stark's kid, for all you knew she could already be taking college classes. When she first read your name and came to give you the present you just thought it was the one Peter got you, but by the time she was bringing out the fifth present you were already overwhelmed. "Why do I have so many presents?" You asked Peter who sat next to you on the shared armchair. "What do you mean many? You only got five so far," Peter whispered. "So far? How many am I getting?" You asked, panic evident in your voice. "I'm guessing everyone got you a gift so do the math," Peter said, not really understanding why you were freaking out. "I only got you a gift this is so embarrassing!" you mumbled into your hands.

Peter put his arm over your shoulders to offer you some comfort. "It's okay. I didn't give a present to everyone either. We can say that the presents I gave are from both of us," Peter said. Peter was too kind. Way too kind.

You ended up with almost 20 gifts, which was impossible to comprehend for your brain. You had so far gotten two sweaters, a book, chocolate, a pair of new sneakers and Tony had gifted you a phone. Suddenly you felt Peter hugging you. "What is it?" You asked, confused. "Your gift," Peter said, showing the bracelet. "Oh this silly thing, I just didn't know what else to give. Do you like it?" You asked. Peter stared at the bracelet. "I love it, thank you so much," he said and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Look, if you turn it around it has "I love you" carved in morse code," you pointed out. You helped Peter put it on before you returned to opening your gifts. You could hear Morgan yell as she ran through the living room, happy that she got the gift she had wanted. Peter's gift ended up in your hands, you knew it was Peter's since he couldn't wrap things for shit.

When the wrapping paper revealed a notebook you knew that tears would flow. Your hands shook as you turned each page, examining each page with care. A picture of the two of you, date and a small note. Maybe what you had done together that day, maybe just something sweet. You saw as your tears wet the pages of the notebook. What did you ever do to deserve a boyfriend like Peter? You closed the book, not wanting to bawl your eyes out in front of everyone. Peter's hand wrapped around yours. "Did you like it?" he asked. "You're an asshole. But yes, I liked it," you said and kissed Peter's cheek.

Tony went to put Morgan to sleep later, after that it was just calm "adult talk". Steve was sleeping on the couch, taking the whole space but their friends could care less and sat on top of the sleeping Steve. You and Peter reigned over the armchair, you found a nice place under Peter's shoulder, your arms wrapped around his middle. "Thank you for giving me my best Christmas," you said to Peter, trying to say it without anyone hearing. "Your only Christmas," Peter corrected. You smiled. "But still, it's the only, the best and I love you," you said, trying to keep the moment serious. "I love you too," Peter said and kissed you. It was a sweet, loving kiss, tasted like brandy.

Maybe Christmases weren't so bad after all.

#marvel #oneshot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #x gender neutral reader #christmas #peter parker fluff #imagine #The Avengers #happy

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #college au #lesbian au #when we went from friends to this #writworm42

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