Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, regular sexism, explicit language, references to trauma, pregnancy, terrible parents, more en dashes than you would ever believe - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Okay. Wait. Listen. Listen. Yes, the angst came back. I couldn't help myself. The story needed it!!! Please don't come after me. I promise everything will be okay!
Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91, who, trust me, has already yelled at me about the angst. But then she encouraged me anyway. You're the best, Chelsea!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
Ransom came home from work to find you leaning on the kitchen island, staring at your darkened phone screen. He picked up Lola from where she was dancing around his feet and carried her over to you. You looked up at him and smiled, but it felt a little strained. Still, you powered through. “How was your day?” you asked.
“Fine,” he said, watching you carefully while he absently pet Lola. “How was yours? Are you alright?”
You nodded quickly. “It was fine.”
He immediately raised a brow at that. “You sure?” he asked with a nod to how tightly you were still gripping your phone.
You forced yourself to let it go, gently setting it on the counter. “My mom called,” you conceded.
His hand immediately moved from Lola to your back, not moving. Just a steady presence there. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.
You nodded again. “They’re—uh, she and Joseph—they’re coming here next week. Want to see us.”
“Oh. They aren’t going to stay with us, are they?” He sounded a little alarmed at the prospect, which made you smile.
“No, definitely not. Joseph will find the nicest suite in Boston, I’m sure.”
Ransom gave you a small smile. “A man after my own heart,” he joked.
You couldn’t quite join him. “Sure,” you shrugged.
His hand on your back became firmer. “Will it be nice,” he asked softly, “to see your mom?”
You took a deep breath. “Is it stupid if I say I miss her?” you asked quietly instead of answering him.
“No,” he said immediately. Firmly. “I can’t relate. But it’s definitely not stupid.”
You finally turned your body to him. “She’s really excited about the baby. That she gets to be a grandma.”
“That’s good,” he said, his hand on your back moving to your stomach, seemingly involuntarily. Like a magnet. That’s how it’d been for the last couple of weeks. Since you’d kissed. Since you’d talked. Otherwise, not much had changed in how he acted. Kisses when he left in the morning and usually when he got home. Or before he and you parted ways to go to your own bedrooms at night. He was taking things slowly. Presumably following your lead. But his hands. His hands always found you.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“How long will they be here?”
“Really just a day, I think. They want to have dinner with us. And Joseph wants to set up at least eighteen holes with you.”
Ransom’s hand shrank back from you, a look of horror on his face. “He wants to golf?!”
You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Why?”
“Because technically you’re his son-in-law. And I’m sure he’ll have some deal or something he’ll want to talk over with you too.”
He rolled his eyes. “I fucking hate golf.”
“That’s fine,” you shrugged. “He’ll expect to win anyway.”
He looked affronted at that. “I didn’t say I was bad at it! Just that it’s a stupid way to waste your time.”
You sighed. “Well, can you do it for one afternoon? Just to make my life easier?”
He gave you a considering look. “You hate him?” he asked.
“I do,” you said, very quietly.
“Alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “I’ll play a fucking round of golf. And I’ll demolish him.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face. “Sure, Ransom,” you said fondly. You doubted it. Joseph golfed more than he worked. But the sentiment was really nice.
He took a step back into your space. The arm that wasn’t holding Lola wrapped around your waist. “You okay with them coming here? Really?”
And you knew, in that moment, that if you said “No,” he would figure out a way to keep them as far away from you as he could. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he cared. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’ll be good to see my mom.”
“Okay,” he said, with a shockingly gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I can tolerate golf with Joseph for an afternoon.”
You woke up early the morning your mother was visiting. You had too much nervous energy to sleep. So you got up, took care of Lola, and started making breakfast for yourself and Ransom.
Your mom was going to come spend the day with you at the house, and then you’d go to the country club together to meet Joseph and Ransom for dinner after they were done golfing. Spending the entire day with her would be good. It would.
Ransom didn’t comment when he got up and found you already in the kitchen. He just kept you company as you cooked. He seemed to understand that you needed the silence filled, so he told you about what he expected his work day to include. A new author coming in, a probable fight with Walt, paperwork he’d been putting off. He didn’t make any mention of the time he’d be spending with Joseph this afternoon, and you were grateful. You were anxious enough already.
Too soon, you were both done with breakfast, and Ransom had gone back upstairs to finish getting ready. The doorbell sounded, and you took a deep breath before answering it.
Your mother stood on the front step, looking put together but maybe as nervous as you were. And frail. She looked very frail. She smiled at the sight of you, as big as she had ever managed. Despite all of the feelings that always swirled around inside of you when you thought of her, you smiled too. And then you threw your arms around her in a big hug.
You hugged her as tightly as you thought she could handle, as you breathed in the familiar floral notes of the perfume Joseph always got her for her birthday. And she hugged you back, her face pressed close.
“Oh honey, I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly.
“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” you replied. And you meant it. Eventually, you pulled away. “Did you have breakfast at your hotel? Can I make you something?” you asked as you ushered her into the house.
“Oh no, you don’t need to do that. We had a nice spread at the hotel. But if you wanted to share a pot of tea, I wouldn’t say n-“
The sound of footsteps hit the stairs, and your mom stopped talking immediately. You watched as her eyes tracked Ransom as he came down. Her body curled inward, just a bit, somehow making herself look even smaller than normal. “Ransom,” you called to him once he was in the room, wanting to break the strange tension that had suddenly filled the space. “You remember my mom, Lydia.”
Ransom stopped short, right next to you. A vague look of surprise on his face. He quickly schooled his expression into something much more neutral, and you made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Yes, of course,” he said, taking a step forward but stopping when she took a small step back. “It’s lovely to see you. I hope you got here alright.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
She didn’t say anything else. An uneasy silence settled over all three of you. You tried to catch your mom’s eye, see if she was okay, but she couldn't keep her wary gaze off of Ransom.
“Well,” Ransom finally spoke, as awkward as you’d ever heard him, “I should get going.” He turned to you, one hand immediately going to your bump. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, lowly, just for you.
You ducked your head with a shy smile at his care and nodded. His other hand came up to briefly caress your cheek as he gave you a small peck on the lips. Then he grabbed his work bag and headed out the door, calling out behind him, “I hope you have a good day together. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, you could feel your mom’s relief. You took a step towards her. “Mom, are you–“
“This is such a lovely home,” she said, stepping past you to look into the living room.
You blinked after her, trying to track what was happening. “Oh, um, thank you. We’re actually moving soon, though. Before the baby comes. We found a house we both really like.”
She looked at you, surprised. “He let you help decide?”
There was something about the question that made your heart crack, just a little. You weren’t sure yet who for. “Yeah, Mom. We discussed what we wanted. We’ll both be living there, after all.”
She opened her mouth to respond before she was distracted by Lola running into the room and jumping up onto the couch. “Oh!” your mom exclaimed. “I didn’t know you still had your little dog!”
You did your best to ignore the implication of that—that she’d assumed Ransom would make you give her up—and went to Lola to scratch behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Lola goes wherever I go, don’t you, baby?”
You looked up to find your mom staring at you, her expression tricky to read. There was relief there, first and foremost, but something else you couldn't quite decipher. After a very long pause, she said very quietly, “He must be very fond of you.”
All you could do was blink at her for a moment. Then, “Yes, I think so. I think– We’re fond of each other. We get along well.” It felt strange to talk about your relationship this way. It felt so new and– and delicate. And yours. You didn’t know how to talk about it with someone who hadn’t been there for the whole thing.
“He really isn’t so bad?” she asked with a hopeful tinge to her voice.
“No,” you said, “he’s not so bad at all. Now that I’ve gotten to know him.”
And at that, her body sagged. Like she’d finally released a breath she’d been holding for the last eight months. Her eyes were watery when she looked you in the eyes and said, her voice shaking a little, “That’s good. That’s so good.”
You took a step towards her and held out one hand. “Mom,” you asked, “are you alright?”
“Of course,” she said, too quickly, with a wobbly smile. “I’m just so happy to see you.”
“Yeah,” you said, but kept a careful eye on her. “Me too, Mom.”
You were able to busy yourself for a few minutes by preparing a few mugs of herbal tea for both of you before you settled on the couch in the living room with her.
Once you were seated, she put a hesitant hand on your stomach with a soft smile. “You’re glowing,” she said. “Is everything going well with the baby so far?”
“Yeah, I think so. The doctor doesn’t have any concerns right now. And they’ve started moving. It’s wild to think that there’s an actual person growing in there. I’m really looking forward to meeting them. And I think Ransom’s getting excited too.”
Her smile shifted a little. “Men are always excited to meet their sons.” And at that, you couldn’t help the way your smile dropped. Your mom noticed, of course. “Have you found out the baby’s sex yet?”
You turned away some as you shook your head. “No,” you said very quietly. “That appointment’s next week.”
“Do you have a feeling either way?” your mother asked urgently.
“No,” you lied. Of course, you had an inkling. One that had been growing stronger every day. But you hadn’t dared voice that feeling yet. It was too terrifying. “I have no idea. I just want them to be safe and healthy.”
“Sweetheart,” she placed a hand on yours, demanding your attention. “That– No, you can’t afford to think that way. You need to be prepared in case the worst happens.”
“The worst?” you asked, voice small, unable to look at her.
“There’s no greater heartbreak than having a daughter.”
You almost gasped, the words hitting you right in your chest, deep and sharp. You couldn’t help the way your hands came up to cradle your stomach, wanting to protect the person inside if you couldn't protect yourself. “Mom,” you whispered, torn apart.
“Honey, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But– But men want sons. Especially for the first one. They need heirs. And you and your children won’t be truly safe until you give Ransom an heir. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You must remember what it was like when your father died without an heir.”
“I–“ you started, but came up short. Your earliest memories were all a blur. You remembered feelings. Fear of your father. And then panic after he died. But nothing specific.
“It was the scariest time of my life. Even scarier than when I first married him. Because he died without an heir, because I hadn’t given him one, everything reverted back to his family. And my family wouldn’t take us back. You and I, we had nothing. Honey, I didn’t know where we were going to sleep or how I was going to feed you. I was so terrified. If I’d had a son, none of that would have happened. And I tried, after you were born, I tried so hard to give your father what he wanted. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him another child, a son, so when he died, I had to do everything I could to find someone else to take care of us. We’re so lucky that Joseph was willing to take us in, that he already had an heir, and that he didn’t need that from me. He saved us.
“I don’t want any of that for you. Ransom is fond of you. That’s good. He’ll forgive you if this baby isn’t a boy. But if it isn’t, you need to try to have a son again as soon as you can. You can’t hesitate. You never know what might happen.”
“Mom, please–“
She gripped your hands tightly, “I know this is difficult to hear, but you need to listen to me. This is so important. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. I want a better life for you. Do you understand?”
You swallowed harshly. She was looking at you with such desperation that for a long moment all you could do was nod. You believed Ransom when he said he cared about you, cared about this baby. But you’d also seen previously doting husbands turn cold when their hope of an heir, their legacy, came unfulfilled. As painful as it was, your mother was right. You couldn’t afford to ignore everything that was at stake here.
“Yes, Mom,” you finally answered, voice rough. “I understand.”
She exhaled in relief as her grip on your hands lessened but didn’t disappear. “Honey, even though you weren’t the heir your father wanted, I was so happy when I finally got to meet you. I didn’t have to be alone anymore. You’ve always been the greatest joy of my life. And no matter what happens, this baby will be that for you too. You’re going to be such a wonderful mother. I just know it.”
You blinked back the tears threatening to spill over your lashes. Your heart was breaking for numerous reasons you couldn’t even name. You moved one hand from her grasp and used it to gently cradle your stomach. “I hope so,” you said, too quietly. “I want to be good for them.”
“You will be,” she said, with one final, loving pat to your hand. Then she reached for her tea and began to ask you about your new house. And you tried to pretend like everything was fine.
You got to the restaurant at the country club feeling raw and anxious. You’d wanted to enjoy your day with your mom, but her words from this morning were hanging over your head.
Ransom and Joseph were already at the table. Ransom with a shit-eating grin on his face while Joseph looked thunderous. Ransom stood to greet you as soon as you were at the table, with a gentle kiss on your cheek. With a wary eye towards Joseph, you asked, “How was the golf?”
Ransom’s grin got even bigger. “I think it went pretty well!” he said, surprisingly brightly, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Especially for my very first time. I won by three strokes!”
“Goddamn beginner’s luck,” Joseph grumbled under his breath from his side of the table, where your mom was already sitting stiffly next to him. He barely acknowledged her.
You looked back at Ransom, slightly confused. Just last week he’d told you he was an experienced golfer. At his subtle wink, you had to work hard to stifle your laughter. You couldn’t think of anything that would piss off Joseph more than being beaten by a supposed beginner.
“How was your day together?” Ransom asked as he pulled out your chair for you.
“It was nice,” you said. And parts of it were. The little girl inside you would always be happy to see your mom. Even if every flinch, every sigh, every piece of advice felt like a dire warning for the life you could have, the person you could become if you weren’t very, very careful. You smiled over at her, and she smiled back, even if it was a little fragile.
Joseph rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Lydia’s been very excited to see you. Hopefully she got all that chattering out of her system.”
And just like that, your mom shrank back down, like she was trying to take up as little space at this table as possible. Joseph saved us. Your mother’s words from that morning echoed in your head. Had the cost been worth it? Had any of this ever been worth it?
Ransom leaned forward. “She’s been really looking forward to your visit, too.” He said to your mother, sincerely. “I hope it was a really good day.”
She looked up at him briefly before looking away again. “Yes, it was,” she said very softly. “Thank you.”
You reached under the table and grabbed Ransom’s hand. He didn’t react, but he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze.
Joseph spent most of the dinner only talking to Ransom, which was honestly fine with you. You tried to engage your mom in conversation on your end of the table, but now that the two of you were no longer alone, she didn’t have much to say. Her eyes kept darting nervously to where the men were talking.
You didn’t catch what prompted it, but your attention was caught when Joseph laughed, “You’ll feel differently once your own son is born in a few months!”
Your son your son your son
But this baby isn’t a boy something inside you responded with a certainty you could not have. There was no way to know that. There was no reason to be so sure.
You were too busy spiraling to catch if and how Ransom responded. But then Joseph turned to you and captured all of your attention. “And look at you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone slick and smug and awful, “you’re glowing. Don’t you feel silly for the scene you made that night? I told you it was just cold feet.”
Your heart lurched at his words. You didn’t have to pause to try to remember what he was talking about. That awful night when you’d gone to the man who’d raised you since you were six years old and begged him to have a shred of humanity and not all but sell you to a stranger. The night your step-father had laughed at you and patronized you and turned you away. The night your entire world had come crashing down and this man who was supposed to be your family hadn’t cared.
You knew you should say something. You knew you should stand up for yourself, but all you could do was choke on the words as you felt yourself going back in time. As you remembered how completely terrified you’d been.
Ransom went completely still next to you, still holding your hand under the table. “Cold feet?” he asked, his head tilting dangerously. “What are you talking about?”
Joseph seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed how tense the atmosphere had gotten. He chuckled. “Oh, she came to me after your first dinner. Fussing about the pregnancy clause. She begged me not to make her go through with the arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “I told her she was being ridiculous, of course. That there was a lot more riding on this than some silly girl’s nerves over being a mother. And look at her now! I was right. Everything worked out fine.”
Ransom got very, very quiet. The only part of him that moved was a muscle in his jaw that ticked angrily. You squeezed his hand under the table, unsure of what he was going to do. And equally unsure if you wanted to stop him or not.
But before anyone else could say anything, your mom rushed in, her voice panicked and urgent, even as she tried to keep her tone light. “Oh, no, but– But she didn’t mean anything by it! All girls get nervous! It’s normal! It wasn’t anything against you! She just– She– She–“
“My god, Lydia,” Joseph interrupted. “What are you babbling about?”
Your mom went silent, but her eyes stayed on Ransom, desperate, pleading.
You felt Ransom take a deep breath and force his body to relax. He leaned across the table to your mom and said, voice calm and reassuring. “I would never be upset with her for being scared. I promise.” But as he turned from her to Joseph, you watched his face turn to stone. “But I can’t imagine ever turning away my own child if they were that scared of something.”
“It isn’t like she’s my actual child,” Joseph scoffed. “And she was overreacting, being dramatic. Everything turned out fine!”
Ransom’s eyes narrowed as he hummed in thought. “You think you’d be a little more grateful to her, considering the fact that you’ve been trying to get the rights to Harlan’s works for decades without any luck. The only thing that made the deal go through this time was the fact that her addition finally made the pot sweet enough. So it might be a good idea to remember, if I were you, that the one thing holding together the only significant rights deal your flagging studio has had in years is the woman sitting next to me. Just a thought.” And then, just like that, he went back to eating his steak, like nothing had happened. But the hand holding yours shifted so that he could thread your fingers together.
You were quiet on the car ride home. Saying goodbye to your mom had been difficult, even as much as you were ready for your life to go back to normal, whatever that might be. She’d hugged you so tight. You hadn’t wanted to let go.
You were leaning your head against the window, watching the world go by in the dark, when Ransom cleared his throat. “And I thought Linda was a piece of work.” His attempt at humor hung in the air awkwardly. You didn’t say anything or turn to look at him. You were too tired.
“Sorry,” he said after another few long, silent moments. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you said into the window. “I’m fine.” You knew he hated that word, but you didn’t know what else to say.
It was quiet as Ransom merged onto the highway, and then he tried again. “How old was your mom when she had you?”
That finally got you to turn your head. “What?”
He glanced over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “She was a lot younger than I expected.”
You gave him a confused look. “You met her before, didn’t you? At the wedding.”
He sighed and looked at you again. “That was a hard day. There was a lot that never really registered,” he answered, somewhat sheepishly. “And so today, I was surprised. I expected someone older.”
You hummed thoughtfully. “She was twenty with me.”
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “And your dad?” he asked, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.
You shrugged, shrinking in on yourself, just a bit. “I don’t know. I was really little, and– I don’t know. Old enough to have a heart attack, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ransom muttered to himself again.
He didn’t say anything else, but you were finally ready to talk. You had too many words swirling around in your head to be able to stop them from tumbling out of your mouth. “She was really afraid of you. Did you notice that?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. “Really scared. At first, I thought it was so weird. She doesn’t really know you, why would– And then I wondered if maybe she was just afraid of all men. Given her track record– But tonight, during dinner, it clicked. She’s afraid of you because if you got upset about anything, you could take it out on me. That’s what had her terrified. And then I realized, all the advice and the ‘just keep him happy’ and the letting me learn how to cook and how to dance and, and– She thinks she’s protecting me. And she is. I guess. In the only way she knows how. And I want to be grateful for it. I– I do. I am. Maybe. But, god, she still handed me the pen!”
“What pen?” Ransom asked, and you suddenly realized that you weren’t just exorcising your turbulent thoughts into the ether but having a real conversation. With your husband.
You swallowed hard, trying to will yourself to stay in the present instead of hurtling back in time to that awful day that started everything. “When they first showed me the contract for our marriage. When they made me sign it. She’s the one who handed me the pen. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
Ransom didn’t say anything. He didn’t even take his eyes off the road. But he took his right hand off the steering wheel and extended it over the gear shaft to cover both of your hands in your lap. And he maybe didn’t know what to say, but this– It was enough.
A week later, you could tell Ransom was concerned as you walked into the clinic together. You knew why. You’d been quiet all day. Nauseous. Today was the day it could all fall apart.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked as you sat in the waiting room.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quietly.
That just seemed to worry him more. “Are you sure? Did you eat today?”
“Yes, Ransom, I did,” you lied. “I said I was fine.”
“Is it the baby? They’re healthy, I’m sure. It’s going to be alright.”
You almost laughed in his face. This appointment was not going to be all right. That, you knew for certain. Instead, you just said, “Yes, I know, Ransom,” unable to keep the irritation out of your tone.
He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel him watching you until your name was finally called.
The appointment was going fine. The baby was healthy, a good size. Everything looked the way it was supposed to. You wished you could take comfort in that.
Ransom was staring at the screen of the ultrasound. “Wow,” he said, his voice full of awe and a soft smile on his face. “They’re starting to look like an actual baby.” He looked to you, to share in it, and you found it easier than you expected to smile back. He was so happy. You had to savor it. Especially since you were so scared that he’d no longer be looking at you like that in just a few minutes.
Sooner than you were ready for, Dr. Patel said the words you’d been dreading. “So,” she asked with a grin, “are we learning the sex of the baby today?”
Ransom’s smile got even bigger, eager. “Yea–“
“No!” You interrupted, too loud, too fast. This hadn’t been your plan, but the panic had overtaken you, and you were operating purely on instinct now. “No, we don’t want to find out!”
“What?” Ransom’s shock may have gotten to you if your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears.
“We don’t want to find out,” you repeated, urgently, shaking your head too hard.
He was staring at you. They both were. But you couldn’t do anything about it. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
That got a little easier when your husband finally turned his attention away from you. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course,” she said with a tight smile. Then everyone but you and Ransom left the room.
At first, Ransom didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, his thumb sweeping across it in soothing arcs. After a few minutes, his voice impossibly soft, he started a steady tide of comforting murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay, honey. You’re alright. You’re safe. Everything’s okay. Just breathe with me, honey. I’m right here with you. You’re okay.”
You closed your eyes, letting yourself be comforted by it, even if you knew it couldn’t last. After several minutes of that, you’d calmed down enough for him to attempt a real conversation. “I guess we probably should have talked about it first,” he said, keeping that same impossibly soft tone, “but I assumed you’d be excited to find out. I’m really excited to find out.”
At that, you tried to close your eyes even tighter, tears leaking out from the force of it, falling down your cheeks.
His thumb paused, for just a beat, then continued to sweep across your skin. “Honey. Please look at me. It’s okay, I promise. I just want you to look at me.” It took all the strength in you, but after a long moment, you forced your eyes open and finally looked at Ransom. His expression was terribly worried, but he let out a small breath in relief once he could see your eyes. “Okay, can you tell me why that was the wrong thing to say?”
This was the last conversation you wanted to have, but you knew you had no choice, so you powered through as best you could. “You’re excited to find out this baby’s your heir. That’s what you’re excited for.”
“What?” The worry on his face was replaced with sheer confusion. “Honey, I don’t give a shit if this baby’s my heir.”
“Yes, you do,” you countered, voice firm. “You might not know that you do, but you do. All men do, whether you realize it or not.” He opened his mouth to reply, but you kept going before he was able to get any words out. “And I’m not upset with you for that. I’m not. I understand. And I’m not afraid you’ll do something to me if they aren’t the boy you want. I know you won’t. I trust you. I know you’ll even still try to love this baby, but… I just– I just can’t see the disappointment on your face when you find out. I just can’t. I think it will break my heart completely, and I– Maybe it’ll be better if you find out when they’re born. Maybe it’ll be harder to be disappointed when there’s a real baby in your arms instead of just the idea of one. Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll still be upset. But I just can’t see your disappointment today. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
Ransom was very quiet for a long time. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t have anything else to say. You just stared at his hand, still holding yours. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly rough. “You know, there’s a lot I’ve been thinking about lately. A lot of things I’m really worried about. One of the biggest ones is the idea of a little me running around. I was a pretty terrible kid. An awful teenager. A shit twenty-something. I think of a son, and I think of all of the mistakes I’ve ever made. I worry that he won’t be able to escape them. But you know what doesn’t worry me? The thought of a little you. Beautiful. Kind. Funny. Unbelievably brave. That’s who I see when I close my eyes and imagine our child.” He paused, thoughtful, and squeezed your hand. “Either way, the thing I most want for this baby is that they have all the best parts of you and none of the worst parts of me. That’s what’s most important to me. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it.”
You felt another wave of tears fall down your face. Later, maybe you’d be able to tell him all the ways you hoped your child was just like him, all the things of his that you wanted them to inherit, but for now, all you could say was, “You mean it?”
“Yes,” he said, so solemnly, looking you dead in the eyes. “I mean it.”
You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered, not able to get any louder.
“Yeah? Okay? Should we let Dr Patel back in? Are you ready to find out?”
You took another deep breath. And then another. And then you nodded. At least now you would know for sure. Either way.
The doctor and the tech came back in. More gel was squeezed onto your stomach. The baby’s placement was found again. The wand maneuvered around. And then, with a careful smile, a little wary of the news she was about to deliver, Dr. Patel said, “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”
Your breath stopped again, and your eyes flew to Ransom. He was staring at you. A wide smile on his face. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “It’s okay?” you asked, voice shaking.
“It’s incredible,” he beamed, placing a happy kiss against your forehead. “It’s absolutely incredible.”
Exhaling a breath you felt like you’d been holding for weeks, you finally let yourself let go of some of your worry, just for now, and feel the same joy he felt. You smiled back at him. It was incredible. You were having a girl.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
⁀➷ previous chapter
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings: ari levinson x female!reader
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ & future pairings:
jake jensen x female!reader
steve rogers x female reader
curtis everett x female!reader.
pete brenner x female!reader
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 17,875. | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: kidnapping, captivity, fingering, coercion, dub-con, rough sex, choking (if you squint, but not really), ari being mean, rough sex, edging.
please let me know if i missed any, i am tired and i think i’ve listed everything.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
notes: holy. fucking. shit. here you go. the Ari chapter. it's the start, it's happening. he's here and he's mean but we love him anyway. pls pls pls let me know what you think. ik my smut isn't the best (still rusty) but have nearly 18k worth of smut anyway. mwah, mwah, mwah. i love u all.
also, as always, all mistakes are my own, the spacing is kinda wonky but i cba to spend lots of time fixing it, i'm sorry
tags: @fandom-meet-fanthem @epiphanyrogers
“Well, I already told you I’m not sleeping with you again,” You said, firm and final as you clutched the sheets against your chest.
Ari let out a huff and a small nod before standing straight.
“Fine,” He replied simply, no bite or malice, a full 180-degree shift to the man who moments before looked ready to lunge across the mattress. “Enjoy the extra day here, Sugar.”
“I’ll earn them off eventually.” You surrendered; a few extra days were better than giving him what he wanted.
Ari left without another word, leaving you alone in the gilded cage, soft sheets beckoning you into a false sense of security. You allowed yourself to fall into a restless sleep, spending the night tossing and turning till the delicate warm rays scattered on the wooden floor and touched your face. You had a few moments to groggily pull yourself up when the door swung open. Ari’s boots hit the carpet with a series of dull thuds, a tray of food in hand, and without a word, dropped it at your nightstand; coffee dripping down the sides of the mug and bits of egg falling off the side of the plate and left.
You stared after the shut door, pausing for a moment before picking up the mug from the nightstand and sipping on the warm coffee, and picking through your breakfast, leaving most of it on the plate. Your stomach still wasn’t playing ball on the appetite front. You eventually peeled yourself out of bed, freshened up, and found yourself standing in the center of the room, staring out the windows.
You wasted the day by picking through the bookshelf, meticulously analyzing each of the various dusty hardbacks and placing a few on your nightstand for later. You took a shower, popped open different bottles and smelled the expensive scents, and bundled yourself up afterward in a soft, fluffy robe before taking advantage of the walk-in wardrobe.
The men clearly had a particular taste.
Lacy, intricate dresses that would leave nothing to the imagination. Strappy kitten heels in different colors, various racks of lingerie, and, tucked away in the back, sets of matching loungewear, which made you sigh with relief. You were just sat on the edge of your bed, snapping the band of the sock around your ankle when Ari walked in, eyes glaring down at you with a tray in his hand.
“Change your mind?” Ari asked.
“Nope,” you responded, popping the “p” and getting up to take a few paces backward to emphasize your decision by putting as much space as you could between you both.
Ari huffed, swapped out the trays, and left without saying anything else. He returned a few hours later, when the sun was dipping low, sending amber shadows along the cream carpet and scattering across the walls. He was carrying two plates and made his way to the small table you had shared with Steve, watching as he took up Steve’s space, the chair creaking under his weight. Your stomach growled; the lunch he had left you earlier was untouched, and the savory smell beckoned you over.
You shuffled off the bed, snapping the book shut and swiftly made your way over to snag a plate, but Ari’s large hand wrapped around your wrist.
“Sit.”
“Why aren’t you eating with the others?” You asked, unmoved and refusing to give in without an explanation.
“My cousins are here, and they have a habit of getting on my nerves,” Ari offered, giving your arm a little tug and kicking out the chair.
“There’s more of you?”
“Plenty. Sit. Eat.”
“I will. When you leave.”
You tugged your arm away and sat yourself down, crossing your arms over your chest and looking out of the window, praying that he got the message and would leave.
His voice was a cold, stark warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Sugar. I’m not gonna keep having the same conversation with you.”
“I really don't give a fuck what you think.”
The air in the room didn’t just drop; it vanished, and to see a man such as Ari, one who moved through the world as a force of nature, towering over everyone he came into contact with, visibly recoiling was, to put it simply, a fucking sight to see indeed. He didn’t move physically, however, but his expression flickered— a momentary crack in the mask of the unbothered eldest brother— and his shoulders tensed up as he let his fork clatter onto the plate.
The silence became so absolute that the muffled tick of the clock in the hallway rang out like a hammer hitting an anvil.
“You seem to have confused my patience for weakness, baby.” Ari tilted his head slightly, eyes focusing on yours. His voice had dropped to a register so low it was almost a vibration, a touch of irritation lacing the tone.
“And you seem to have confused my engagement in this conversation as actually caring about what a liar had to say,” You shot back. “And I am not your baby.”
The word liar seemed to hit Ari like a physical blow, a sharp, thickening tension blooming between you, shifting the room from tense to something far more volatile. Ari still didn’t flinch; he didn’t yell, but the longer he stared silently, the more it felt like walls closing in. Ari abruptly stood, the chair knocking backward. He moved towards the window, his back to you and hands stuffed in his pockets. His massive frame eclipsed the fading sunlight streaming through the window, casting a long, dark shadow that completely swallowed you.
“A liar.” His voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of a landslide.
“Yep,” You confirmed, nodding to yourself.
The word hung in the air, stark and naked; to you it was defiance, to Ari it may as well have been a death wish.
His movements were slow and deliberate, turning slowly from the window and walking over to you with heavy footsteps. You glared up at him, standing your ground, although a ball of anxiety formed in your throat that you were forced to swallow down as he stepped into your space. He leaned down and didn’t stop until his face was level with yours, and up close, the coldness in his eyes was absolute; a deep void under the mask of blue that threatened to pull you under. He didn’t touch you, but he didn’t need to; the sheer proximity of him— the smell of cedar and stale smoke, the heat radiating from the blood boiling under his skin— felt like something close to a physical assault.
“You think you have the moral high ground because I played a part? You think your indignation protects you here?”
Suddenly, his hand shot out. His fingers clamped around the back of your chair, the wood groaning under the sudden, immense pressure of his grip. He jerked the chair an inch closer to him, a sharp, jarring motion that forced you to lean closer to him.
“No,” You answered honestly. “I think you’re just a liar. And the way you’re reacting just goes to show that you know that you are.”
Ari’s fingers tightened impossibly on the wood, a small crack ringing out from the pressure of his hand, and for a second, the mask he had tried to keep glued in place shattered. A vein pulsed in his temple, his eyes elated with a raw, jagged heat. The man who was supposed to be a meticulously constructed pillar of his dysfunctional family had his foundation slapped away by a few words, and you could see it clear as day… He hated it.
“You think you’re the first to call me a liar? You think a little “insight” makes you special, Sugar?” Ari snarled lowly, his face inches from you.
With a sudden, violent motion, Ari didn’t just pull the chair; he knocked it from under you, catching your arm in a bruising grip and hauling you upwards with a single, effortless surge of strength, listing you almost off your feet and snug against his chest. Your eyes burned their way up to his face.
“What? Your wife called you a liar too?”
The silence that followed wasn't just a pause. The air seemed to freeze, turning into shards of ice that pierced everything.
“You won’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Ari defended poorly, his voice a flat, dead whisper; totally devoid of any human inflection. You found the cord and planned to strike it as often as you could. “So, I suggest—“
“Had a whole wife and you still chose to fuck around with captive women. What a remarkable man you are, Ari. Truly. Out of everything that’s happened to me over these past few months… Fucking you was my biggest regret.”
The words didn’t just land; they detonated, and the room seemed to vibrate with the force of the insult.
You knew that to a man like Ari, a man who seemingly lived and breathed control, the admission that he was not only a liar but a regret was a level of degradation he’d probably never experienced. The thought of knocking him down flooded your veins with adrenaline, a racking shake through your body. But, unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t the insult to his character— he knew he was a monster; he was fine with it— it was the dismissal of the intimacy you had shared; however fake it had been. It was his to dismiss, his to downplay— not yours.
His face became a canvas of terrifying, blank neutrality as the grip on your arm tightened, stealing a hiss through your teeth as his nails pricked at your skin. He didn’t just hold you there; he owned you there. A stark reminder that in his hands, you could be nothing more than a doll.
“I’m not scared of you,” You declared despite the slight waver in your voice screaming otherwise.
Ari didn't respond with words, but the air seemed to rush out of the room as he used his other hand to clamp his fingers around your chin with an aching force, his broad shoulders casting a suffocating shadow over you. He tipped your head up, tilting it back into a sharp, vulnerable angle, his fingers moving to squeeze into the soft flesh of your cheeks. Your eyes were locked on each other's; his gaze had morphed into something else, something burning, a mixture of pure hatred and that familiar glint of raw, uncontrollable hunger.
He looked at you the same way he had in the club; like he wanted to tear you apart and possess every shattered piece of you all at once.
For a long, agonizing moment… Neither of you moved. Both of you are refusing to be the first to give in; to shout, to scream, to insult.
You stood locked in a stalemate of heavy breaths and searing heat; the only sound in the room was the ragged, weighted synchronization of your breathing. The air between you and Ari was thick, electric, desperate for a spark; the residue of the war you had been waging with poisoned tongues and quick wit. Ari’s gaze dropped first, landing on your lips, eyeing the way they trembled with each breath. You waited, and waited; for something, anything when finally…
The tension snapped.
Ari didn’t just lean in; he collided.
He crashed his lips against yours in a kiss that was less about passion and more about a conquest; a point to prove. It was violent and punishing; desperate with a physical manifestation of the fury he couldn’t voice, the want he couldn’t admit. He didn’t ask; he took, his mouth claiming yours with a bruising intensity that even in your weeks together you hadn’t experienced. He tasted like a dark, simmering rage, and you were helpless to fight. He used his weight to push you back until your back hit the edge of the table, the wood digging into your lower back, the plates rattling behind you.
He broke the kiss only to snarl almost breathlessly against your lips; jagged and rough. ‘’Say it again. Tell me you’re not scared while you’re shaking in my arms, Sugar. Don’t want me yet you’re kissing me back, hmm? We can play present, baby, that’s fine—“
“You’re not giving me much choice,” You grumbled at him.
Your hands pushed against the hard planes of his chest, scoffing while your face twisted up and your fingers dug into the expensive fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to create space. You pushed with every ounce of strength you possessed, but moving a mountain might have been an easier feat. Ari didn’t even budge- not even a little bit. He simply absorbed the impact of your struggle with a smirk on his lips.
‘’Push harder, Sugar," he goaded, letting out a dark chuckle that vibrated through your hands and rattled your bones.
Instead of letting you go, Ari reacted to your resistance by intensifying his hold. He shifted his weight, his massive thigh sliding between yours, pinning you firmly against the table and cutting off any hope of maneuvering out of his hold. His hand migrated from your jaw and slid down your throat, resting there with a possessive pressure that made your head spin and served as a reminder of how easy it would be for him to extinguish your breath as he dipped his head down, lips close to your ear.
‘’I love it when you fight me, Sugar. It’ll make the moment you finally stop so much sweeter,’’ he whispered against your ear.
He leaned back just enough to look you in the eyes; his pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the iris; the blues that had suckered you in were nowhere to be found. He looked completely unhinged; the polished facade of the right hand was entirely stripped away, leaving behind the monster, unashamed and untethered. Everything about him in that moment filled your senses and clouded your mind; his hair wild from the struggle, the tobacco and expensive cologne making your head swim, his breath hot on your neck.
‘’You think you’re so brave because you have nothing left to lose, but you’re wrong. You still have your pride, that stupid fuckin’ mouth. I’m really gonna enjoy taking those from you… Piece by piece, he continued to whisper in your ear, low and dangerous.
‘’And then pass me along to your brothers?’’ You taunted. ‘’Playing with something you can’t even keep. You’re pathetic.’’
The words cut through the air, cutting deeper than any physical threats Ari had issued. You could tell by the way his hand tightened around your throat that it was a lethal blow, reminding him that he was nothing more than a man who couldn’t claim his own prize, letting him know he was nothing but a mere placeholder. His reaction was almost instantaneous. The low, controlled heat of his anger flared into a white-hot blaze. He didn’t pull away, but instead pushed you back flat onto the table with such a sudden, violent force that your head thumped against the wood, groaning under the impact and sending a vibration rattling through your spine.
‘’You think I can’t keep you?’’ Ari asked in a hushed, rough tone, his face inches from yours. His grip on your throat tightened more, enough to pin your head firmly against the table; his other hand flew to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with a grip that was bound to leave bruises. The cold, detached professional was truly long gone; instead, he was possessed by a primal need to dominate and silence the one person who had managed to see through his armor, and it terrified you. His eyes flashed with an unstable light.
‘’I don’t pass things along, Sugar. I decide who gets what and when–’’ Ari leaned in closer, teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his breath ragged and full of fire. The sheer physical disparity between you both was overwhelming to say the least; you were a delicate flower trapped under a landslide. With each word, he sounded like less of a man and more like a predator ready to claim a kill as his voice dropped to a menacing, vibrating hum. ‘’Maybe I’ll decide you’re too precious for the others. Maybe I’ll decide that the only way to scrub that fuckin’ arrogance out of your mouth is to keep you locked in this room, on your knees, until you forget to speak anything but my name.’’
He leaned back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression a terrifying mixture of hatred and an obsession he couldn’t quite mask. You let out a shaky breath through your nose, willing your bones to stop trembling, and the sly smirk on his lips told you he had wound up with exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to fear him, but more than that, he was desperate for you to acknowledge that he was the only thing in this world that mattered right now.
“Calling me pathetic? Well…” He trailed off, leaning closer, your noses almost touching, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Let’s see how ‘pathetic’ this feels, Sugar.”
Without any further warning, he dipped his head and crashed his mouth back over yours. It was a sordid collision of teeth and tongue, and you felt powerless to fight. It was a raw, hungry attempt to devour your defiance. He kissed you as if he were trying to drink down your pleas, take in your breath as his own; his hand on your throat guided your moments, forcing you to stay, enduring the onslaught of his fury.
The groan that bubbled in his throat caused you to writhe underneath him, your nails found his forearms, nails scraping against his skin, blooming red, frantic, desperate lines; a feeble attempt to get away, but it only served to heighten the friction. Every move you made only got you more and more trapped under the heat of his chest and the cool, unforgiving wood of the table.
“Fight me, come on, Sugar. Know you can do better than that,” Ari taunted against your lips.
He didn’t flinch at the scratches. If anything, the sharp sting seemed to act as a catalyst, stoking the fire already raging in him. You shuddered when he rocked against you, feeling how he loved the resistance; he was clearly a man who enjoyed having something to crush. He shifted his grip, hand sliding from your throat to the back of your head, his fingers curling ruthlessly in your hair. With a sharp, sudden tug, he yanked your head back, forcing you to expose your throat to him and breaking the kiss with a lewd, visceral wet sound.
“You’re so desperate to get away, yet here you still are. Still breathing me in, still feeling exactly what I do to you, and I know…” His voice was a breathless rasp, his eyes gleaming with something dark. “You fucking love it.”
He didn’t let you recover. Didn’t give you a moment to breathe. To sit with the impending doom. Instead, he began to trail kisses across your jawline, lips bruising and demanding, moving to the sensitive skin of your neck. Each press of his lips was akin to a brand, a claim of ownership that threatened to ignore the schedule, ignore the rules, and ignore the other men in the manor. You bit back a whimper, hating how a mix of disgust and want soared through your veins, trapped under him as he was operating on pure, unfiltered impulse now; driven by a burning need to silence her tongue and break your spirit.
His teeth grazed your shoulder, his voice heavy and breathy. “Tell me again how pathetic I am, Sugar. Tell me while you’re shaking, tell me while you’re pretending to not want me. You’ve always wanted me, Sugar.”
You tried to push against him, fighting to keep him from pushing his weight further against you, his thigh pressed firmly against your core, and you begged your body not to respond, and when you felt the all-familiar ache, you had no choice but to act. You waited until he looked up at you, making his way over to your other shoulder as you gathered spit in your mouth and launched it directly at his face.
The room went silent.
The wet, sharp sound of the spit hitting Ari’s cheek echoed in the space around you. For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. Ari had frozen, his head slightly tilted, moisture glistening on his skin in the fading sunlight.
This wasn’t a verbal jab, a clever quip or pointed insult. This was a visceral, primal act of contempt. It was the ultimate reflection of his power, his masculinity, and his status within the manor walls. It was the only way you could think to get him to stop, but now you feared what would happen when he started again. In a home where respect was demanded through fear and blood, this was an act of absolute heresy.
Slowly and deliberately, Ari turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression was no longer one of hunger or rage. It was something far more horrifying. His features had gone completely slack, his eyes turning into two cold, dead stones. The fire had been snuffed out, replaced by a glacial, murderous calm. He didn’t move to wipe his face, didn’t flinch or reel back. He simply stared, the silence stretching out until it felt like a physical weight crushing the oxygen from the room and leaving you breathless.
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” Ari asked, his voice a flat, timeless whisper, devoid of everything human.
With a sudden, blurring movement, Ari seized both of your wrists, pinning them in a single, massive grip and slamming them up above your head with a force that made your shoulders feel like they were going to pop. He leaned in, his chest against yours.
“I was going to be softer. I was going to give you the luxury of a slow break, but you… You just can’t help yourself. So, what choice do you give me?” Ari’s gaze shifted around your face, a dark, twisted smirk finally touching his lips. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure; it was the smile of a man who had finally been given a good enough reason to be cruel. “I wonder if Lloyd will consider this as ‘extenuating circumstances.’ I wonder if he’ll let me keep you for the rest of the week, just to see how many times you can spit before you start begging for me to touch you.”
“So much for being the one who makes the decisions,” You huffed. Ari was right. You didn’t know when to stop, and you hoped that if you defied him enough, he would get bored and move on. “Gotta run to Lloyd to see if you can keep playing with the new toy. No wonder your wife upped and ran. I would leave you too.”
The mention of his wife again, coupled with the accusation that he was nothing more than a puppet to Lloyd’s whims, seemed to hit Ari like a physical strike to the gut. The calm he had so easily possessed vanished, his face twisting up as he took in a sharp exhale of breath. The transition was a violent one— switching from the predator playing with his food to a man stripped of every shred of restraint.
You jumped in your skin as his fist hit the table, so close that you could feel the wind from the impact.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ari warned, eyes glaring down at you, his voice laced with something twisted. “You think you’re so fucking clever. You think you’ve found the one thing that can break me…”
The grip of your wrists tightened, threatening to shatter the bones. He looked completely possessed, pupils expanded until no light reflected. His breathing came out in sharp, jagged heaves. Suddenly, he pulled you up right, manhandling you until you were pinned to the floor. He gripped your hips with a bruising intensity as his voice dropped, leaning down to graze his lips against yours as he spoke.
“I don’t need Lloyd’s permission to break a toy that’s already malfunctioning.”
The coldness was finding its way back, but it was different now. It was a focused cruelty. He wasn’t just reacting now; he was deciding. He looked at you— really looked at you— maybe not as a woman, but as an asset; as something that needed to be silent and subdued until there was nothing left.
“You want to talk about why she left? Maybe I'll let you figure it out while you're screaming my name. Maybe I'll show you exactly why no one survives this family with their pride intact.”
“Careful now, Ari. I’m starting to think you’re all talk,” You challenged. Your mind was split in two. One side hoped he would still leave; the other wanted him to stay, and you were unsure which to listen to. “Starting to think you can only get up on someone else’s say-so. Do it. Do your worst.”
The challenge hung in the air, acting like a spark in a room flooded with gasoline.
For Ari, the invitation was the final piece of the puzzle. He had tried control, he had tried the professional distance, he had tried pure, raw fury— but you; you offered him the one thing that he desperately craved in that moment: a reason to stop holding back.
Permission.
For you, it was curiosity, wondering how far he would go; it was the other side that clung to the fantasy, the one where you moved away, where he followed— white picket fences, sunset strolls, and happiness. Despite everything, you had grown attached to the man who had betrayed you in the worst way, and if this was a way to pay up and get out, at least it was with him.
“You have no idea what my worst looks like, Sugar. You have no idea what you’ve just asked me for,” Ari purred into your ear, a sick grin on his lips.
He looked at you with an expression so vacant of any warmth that it made dread bloom in your stomach, mixing with the desire that still sat heavy there. He looked at you as if you were a puzzle he was about to solve by breaking every single piece. Then, suddenly, Ari shifted his grip. He didn’t just hold you; he manipulated your body with an effortless strength until you were face down on the floor, your chest pressed down onto the cream carpet. He gathered your wrists in his hand, pinning them against your back as he nudged and pushed at your legs until your back was arched, ass in the air. His other hand had made slow work, sliding up the back of your thigh.
The thin sweatpants offered no protection under the heavy weight of his hand, his large palm grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh; possessive and demanding. He leaned his massive frame down onto you, your chest crushing down against the hard floor; his breathing hot and heavy against the nape of your neck.
“You want the monster, Sugar? You want the man who drives women to run?” He trailed off, his hand shifting higher as he let out a mirthless huff of air that felt like a ghost of a laugh. His fingers hooked the edge of the waistband and began to pull it downward with a slow, drawn-out pace as his voice dropped to a lethal, spoken thread. “…I'm going to make you regret every single word that ever came out of that pretty, arrogant mouth. I'm going to make you beg for the "pathetic" man to stop. And then... I'm going to make you beg for him to start again.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He sank his teeth into the sensitive tendon where your neck met your shoulder, not a bite, but a grinding, punishing pressure that threatened to claim you entirely. As his tongue swept over marks left by his teeth, a gasp bubbled up in your throat, and you arched in a poor attempt to escape the assault on your neck, only to end up with your ass flush against the already demanding bulge in his jeans. The sound of your gasp was the only thing that filled the room; a signal to Ari of the first crack in your armor.
For Ari, that movement— that instinctive, physical reaction— was a victory more potent than any verbal submission, which made him let out a low, almost growling laugh against your skin.
“There it is,” He boasted with a grin you could feel. “Here we go, Sugar. We’re really getting started now.”
You knew he could feel the tremor in your muscles, the way your body betrayed that small voice that wanted nothing to do with what was happening. His hand, still gripping your wrists behind your back, toughened for a second, pulling your shoulders back and forcing your chest further into the carpet, the fibers biting at your skin. You felt completely exposed, vulnerable.
“Don’t get big-headed.” You tried to save. “Your hands are just tough, and the position is awkward.”
The defiance, although dwindling rapidly, was still there, clinging to you like a last shred of dignity, although thinner and frayed by the physical reality of his dominance. The way you gritted your teeth and fought through your reaction only served to fuel Ari’s obsession with breaking you. You knew he didn’t want you to be quiet; he wanted to strip away every last excuse you had until there was nothing but the truth of your response to him.
“Rough?” Ari let out a sound that was a half-laugh, half-snarl. He slowly released the grip on your wrist, but before you could even think of moving, his hands found your waist, gripping tightly and pulling you back against him. “I can be as soft as you want, Sugar. I can be the gentleman. I can be the pathetic man who plays by the rules…” He slid a hand down your spine, slow and agonizing, wanting you to feel every second of the anticipation; the suffocating weight of his presence until the hand found its way to your hair. “But you didn’t ask for the gentleman—“ He took a harsh grip, forcing you up against him as you bit back a cry. His voice dropped to that lethal whisper that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “You asked for my worst.”
He gripped your chin and forced your head to the side, looming over you as he made you look back at him over your shoulder. His face was a mask of cold, focused intent; the void in his eyes now filled with a predatory satisfaction. He looked at your swollen lips, now parted and letting out little, quick breaths; the way your eyes were wide and shimmering with tears that threatened to fall— not from fear or sadness— from anticipation and pent-up frustration.
“You’re not in control here, Sugar. Not your words, your pride… and certainly not your body,” He stated, and you knew, in that moment, that he was right. The contrast between you was stark; your fragility against his brutality. “Now, tell me again. Tell me how rough and pathetic I am while I make you forget your own name.”
“Just do it already,” You provoked, voice a shaky whisper as a shudder made its way down your spine.
The whisper wasn’t a surrender, but an invitation; an invitation to the abyss that Ari was more than happy to plunge them both into. The sound of your voice, broken and breathless, acted like a trigger.
“With pleasure.” Ari’s voice was a quiet promise.
Ari made quick work of ridding you of your clothes. Rough fingers slid your shirt up your back and ripped it over your head before working down your sweatpants, the heat of his body shielding you from the room's cool air. He didn’t bother with sliding down your underwear, simply snapping the bands on either side, the sound ringing out— a symbolic shedding of the last barrier between you and his now unrestrained hunger.
“Look at me, Sugar, back up here,” Ari instructed, voice laced with need.
He didn’t wait for you to comply; he seized a handful of your hair and forced you back up, tilting your head back until your gaze locked with his. It’s like he wanted you to see the monster you had summoned. He wanted you to see there was no soft side left— only a man who had been pushed too far and now had every intent of reclaiming every ounce of power you had tried to strip away from him.
“You wanted my worst, Sugar?” Ari tormented. “That’s what you asked for, right?”
With you flush against him again, he tilted your head to the side with a rough grip on your jaw and crashed his mouth back onto yours; a battle of teeth and tongue, desperate and needing. You let a small whimper die in your throat as you struggled to keep up with his pace; the familiar taste of whisky on his tongue pulled at the desire that still lay thick inside you. He kissed you as if he were trying to devour your breath, his tongue invading your mouth with the same possessive aggression that his hands had on your body.
The hand that was in your hair untangled, sliding down and finding its way to the soft of your stomach, before slipping between your thighs and roughly hooking a finger into your center; blunt and demanding. His large fingers stretched and pushed in a way that made you want to fold. He clearly wasn’t looking for a slow build; he wanted a total collapse. He ground his hips into the meat of your ass, his cock finding friction between the layer of fabric and the softness of you; like he wanted you to feel what was to come— the man you had called pathetic, the man who had taken you apart over and over again, the man you wanted to do it again.
He broke the kiss just enough to rasp against your lips, “Tell me…” His fingers shifted, applying a sharp pressure to your jaw. “Tell me who owns you right now.”
You found his reflection in the window and glared at him through wet eyes, simply stating, “Never.”
The word was a fragile thing, spoken through a veil of unshed tears and a trembling lip, but it was delivered with the same stubborn pride that had defined every single second of your interaction with the family so far. It was the only thing you had left. Even now, your body pinned like a specimen on a board, your body calling out for the same man that had trapped you in a house of horrors, you refused to give him the one thing that he truly wanted… Submission.
Ari froze.
The pressure of his fingers stilled, and the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart against your back seemed to stutter. You could feel his stare, feel the burning. He let out a huff of air. He had broken professionals; he had crushed spirits that were supposed to be ten times more resilient than yours. Yet, here you were, refusing to break even as he tore your world apart.
“You really think this is a game of endurance, don’t you, Sugar?” Ari probed, voice dropping to a dangerous register. A dark, twisted smile slowly spread across his face. It wasn’t a smile of amusement; it was the look of a man who had just found a more interesting way to play with his toy. “Fine. Keep that pride of yours a little longer, baby. It won’t be long until you lose it.”
He shifted his weight, letting you fall forward, hands flush against the carpet as he settled back on his legs and forced your legs wider, exposing your cunt up to him. His hand lay heavy on the slope of your back as he used his free hand to threaten a start in dismantling you. He let his finger ghost down between your slit, finger tip sliding with ease due to the slick that had gathered, which elicited a hum of approval— of success.
“I don't need you to say it. Your heart is hammering against my chest. Your skin is flushing. You're shaking so hard you can barely breathe…” “The more you fight, the more I’m gonna make you feel. I’m gonna keep pushing ‘til you’re so desperate, so utterly undone, that ‘never’ becomes the last word you ever say to me.”
He withdrew his hands, leaving you cold and aching in the sudden void. Behind you, you could hear the shuffling of fabric, the sound of a zipper.
“Look at me, Sugar. Look at what you’ve provoked,” Ari commanded.
You glared back at him, refusing to look where he wanted, teeth gritted and bit out: “Still pathetic.”
The words were barely a breath, a ghost of a whisper delivered through gritted teeth and shimmering eyes, and above all else…
A damn lie, and Ari knew it.
The sight of him, long and thick; the glistening head of his cock where his anticipation had gathered. The vein that ran down the underside, which you’d run your tongue and fingers over time and time; the one that made him groan deep in his throat and tilt his head back. The same one that gave you the sight of him that had embedded itself in your brain, the one you lost yourself in over and over in your hotel room until you next saw him.
Ari let out a low, vibrating sound— a hum that sounded more like a purr, but it carried the weight of a death sentence. He looked at you, and for the first time, the hatred and hunger were eclipsed by a terrifying, absolute clarity.
You were full of shit, and he knew it.
“You’re so proud of that little tongue, aren’t you, Sugar?” Ari mused, toying with a grin to match.
With a sudden, unrelenting surge of movement, he drove himself into you with a brutal, uncompromising force that almost knocked the wind clean out of your lungs and made your thighs want to part and welcome him further; welcome him home. Despite the fact that there was no preamble, no tenderness, no gradual slide, it made you clench and ache around him. It was a taking— a raw assertion of ownership that felt as if he was trying to merge his very existence with yours; or perhaps, to split you in two.
The impact had you fighting against him, your eyes threatening to roll back for a fleeting second as the sheer scale of him filled you completely. He was too big, too much, an overwhelming presence that left no room for air, for thought— for defiance. He folded himself over at you, nudging himself a little inside a little further as his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear.
“Still pathetic?” He taunted, jagged, and rough.
He gave you no opportunity to comment back, no time to slide in an insult or jab. He began to move; each thrust was deep, punishing, and deliberate, designed to jar your entire frame and remind you of the reality of your situation. He used his size as a weapon, grinding his hips into yours with a relentless intensity that threatened and sought to drown out your thoughts, your pride, your “never.” The room seemed to shrink until it was only the two of you— the sound of the carpet biting and scratching into your skin, the wet— visceral and sordid— friction of your skin; the ragged, synchronized moans and pants of two people locked in a war of attrition. Ari’s face was a twisted mask of focused intensity, his eyes locked in yours, searching for the exact moment the light of defiance would snuff out.
His teeth grazed your ear as he rumbled out, “Where’s my noises, pretty girl? Don’t you wanna tell the whole house how pathetic I am… While you’re shaking and choking my cock with that pretty cunt.”
You muffled the whimper that continued its want for escape, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down until you feared the taste of copper. For you, it was a final act of rebellion; the last tool in the box. For Ari, it was an intolerable challenge. You knew he could feel how your walls gripped and pulsed around him; he knew the truth; he knew it with every deep, punishing thrust, but the fact you were still holding the gate shut nearly sent him over the edge.
“God fucking dammit,” Ari damn near growled, frustrated and flustered.
He didn’t just pull out; he ripped himself out of you with a sudden emptiness that left you gasping and hollow. Ari wasted no time, flipping you back over onto your back, rough fingertips bruising into your sides. You landed with a soft thud, the air leaving your lungs, but Ari was back on you within an instant. He gripped your legs under your knees and bent them upwards before his hands found your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he parted your legs, situating himself snugly inside of them.
He pinned you there, hands keeping a tight hold on your legs, large palms pushing into the skin; almost folding you in half. The position utterly degrading, stripping away every last shred of poise you had tried to maintain; washed away under the sea blue of his eyes staring down at you with that hunger shining bright. You were bent, broken, and completely exposed, and you hated how your core clenched, already missing him.
“You think you’re so strong because you can stay quiet? Like it’s gonna stop me?” Ari asked, the low, dark timber rattling against the nape of your neck. He shifted, the head of his cock bumping against your cunt, threatening to sink in deep again. “I’m gonna hit every single spout that makes you lose that stubborn little mind. I’m going to push you until you can’t remember how to hold your breath.”
He reached forward to grab a handful of your hair at the top of your skull, yanking your head back, twinges of pain pricking across your scalp, which made you cry out as he forced you to look up at him; your back was bent almost impossibly, his other hand coming up to keep a tight hold on your neck. His eyes were wild, pupils blown with a mixture of lust and a desperate need to see you break.
Ari grinned as he let the tip of his cock catch against your leaking hole; the only warning you were given before he drove back into you. He used the hold on your neck to anchor you down against him as he hurried himself to the hilt.
“Fuckkk,” He moaned, deep and drawn out. “Let’s see if this works.”
The angle was deeper, more invasive; knees angled towards your shoulder with nowhere to hide. You attempted to close your eyes, but a tight squeeze on your throat that threatened to keep your breath stuck in your lungs made them peel open again. You peered up at him— eyes wet, lashes clumped— and let out a shaky breath as Ari drew backward. He began to move with a rhythmic, punishing violence, his hips slamming against your ass with a slapping, wet, heavy sound that echoed through the opulent room.
“Come on, Sugar. Let me hear that you’re mine. That’s what you wanted, right? Run away and spend the rest of your existence split open on my cock. Tell me that you’re nothing but my toy, my sweet girl, come on,” Ari moaned into your ear, husky and honeyed, small grunts punctuated with each of his thrusts.
The sound was small at first— a broken, airy vibration that escaped your throat despite every ounce of your willpower, but once the dam broke, it was impossible to stop. The moan rippled through you, a physical admission of your pleasure and the pain of being under a man that had done you so wrong colluding in a sordid weapon that made your head swirl and your cunt ache and throb around him— you had lost the fight between wrong and right and all that was left was Ari who let out a dark, triumphant sound; a low growl of victory that vibrated through your back and wrapped itself around your throat.
“Yeah, there she is,” Ari drawled. “Hi, baby. Welcome home.”
Your break was like a drug to him.
The sound seemingly stripped away the very last threads of his detachment, replacing it with a feral hunger. He didn’t slow down; instead, he accelerated, his thrusts becoming faster and more frantic— deeper and unrelenting. He was no longer just trying to punish you for the insults, the defiance; he was trying to consume you, to carve his name into your very soul. The room became filled with the sounds of your collision— the heavy thud of skin on skin, the mix of your airy, strung-out moans and his desperate groans; just two people pushed to their limits.
“You knew you couldn’t fight it, Sugar. You can’t keep fighting me,” Ari rasped as he leaned down, lips brushing against your shoulder.
Ari wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple break, though. He wanted a total collapse. You adjusted to the rhythm, moans coming out as quick, broken whines. The angle was extreme— his massive frame almost compressing you under the weight of him— leaving you completely open, your vulnerability absolute as his forehead almost touched yours before he pulled back a little to look at you with eyes that were dark, void of mercy and shimmering with a terrifying sort of triumph.
“Look at you, folded up like a little doll. S’all you are, right?” Ari hummed breathily as he leaned up and began to shallow his thrusts.
The sudden change in tempo was almost more agonizing than the violent back-and-forth of the previous moments. Ari shifted his weight, leaning back up onto his arms, creating a small gap that made you instantly arch back up against him. He stopped the deep, punishing drives and instead restricted his movements to shallow, teasing frictions— just enough to keep you balanced on the precipice of a peak you couldn’t reach on your own.
He gazed down at you, lids heavy and a sordid smile, a mask of predatory satisfaction. Your legs still pinned, your chest heaving and unable to rock up to get his cock further inside as your gaze glazed over with a shimmering mixture of desperation and lust. You squeezed around him— an instinctive, pleading grip that contradicted every word you had spat at him since he lured you to the manor— earning a small groan and a shake of his head.
“Tell me you’re mine, baby. Tell me, and I’ll let you cum,” Ari crooned lowly; the jaggedness that had been present in his tone was long gone and replaced by a silken, manipulative warmth. He leaned in closer, voice dropping to an intimate whisper. “Just tell me. Tell me what I wanna hear… Tell me what you’ve been hoping for.”
He shifted slightly, a minute movement that sent a jolt of longing through you, and then stopped again, thrusting the tip in and out of your cunt. He was playing with you now, despite you gripping at his forearms and letting out the cries you had begged for. He treated your pleasure as a currency he could trade for your pride. He watched the way your pupils dilated, the way your breath hitched, favoring the power he held over you. That dark, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. He knew exactly how this worked; he knew how you looked at him, wanted him, how you reacted to simply being in his presence, and played like a harp.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Didn’t you want that? Didn’t you wanna be all mine?” Ari’s ramblings were messing with your head; or, rather, emptying it out. You couldn’t think straight as he gave one more shallow, agonizing thrust; his gaze licked on yours that demanded total surrender. He was offering you a way out of the tension, a release from the torture, but the price was the only thing you had left. His breath was hot against your lips, a soft, commanding lure. “I’ll give it to you, baby… Just tell me. Come on, Sugar. Do it for me.”
Your head lolled to the side. The fight had drained out of you, replaced by a desperate, thrumming need that made every single nerve ending scream for the release he was withholding.
You bucked your hips slightly, letting out shallow and broken gasps— the sounds of a woman who had been pushed far beyond your breaking point and was now floating in the void of your own arousal— when Ari would laugh and hold them still, depriving you of seeking your own pleasure; only allowing what he gave. He refused to move, staying perfectly still; a towering mountain of muscle and heat. He let the room's silence amplify your desperate breathing. He could feel the clenching of your walls, the way your body was begging him to fill you, to drive you over the edge.
As Ari leaned down, his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your ear, the vibration from his voice sending a shiver through you.
“I’ll play with this pretty pussy just the way you like,” Ari lured, shifting his hips just a fraction— a tease, a promise— sending a fresh wave of electricity through you that made your back arch up into him instinctively. “I know how you like it. Come on, Sugar. For me.”
He knew the map of your body now; he knew where the triggers were, he knew how to play you, and he knew how much you could take before you snapped. He wanted you to feel the weight of your dependence on him, to realize that your own path to peace lay within satisfying him. He looked down at you, and you tried to shy away, knowing he had to see how clouded your vision was; the way your lips were parted and trembling. How he was slowly becoming the only thing in your world— the only spice of pleasure and pain, the only authority that mattered. He tightened his grip on your legs, pulling you slightly closer and nudging in deeper; the friction was almost unbearable.
“Just tell me,” Ari whispered, a dark, possessive promise against your lips.
You let out a mix of a moan and a sob.
“I’m yours,” You whined.
The words were barely audible, a shattered fragment of a voice that carried the weight of total defeat. The moment your admission left your lips, the tension in the room shifted. It wasn’t the sudden explosion of rage from before, but a suffocating wave of possessive triumph. Ari didn’t just hear you; he felt the surrender in the way your body finally went lax underneath him, the last wall of your defiance crumbling to dust as you gave in.
A deep rumble of satisfaction vibrated in his chest as his voice dropped into a dark, velvet purr.
“That’s my girl.”
With the victory finally secured, Ari shifted his position.
He pushed himself up, arms locked and muscles straining, creating a space that felt like a vacuum of anticipation. He didn’t pull out angrily; he retreated until he was barely clinging to you, the very tip of his cock rocking rhythmically and shallowly against your leaking entrance— open and aching. His eyes locked on the scene below, lids heavy and lips parted; his hair falling around him like a dark halo. It was a precision stroke, a slow, maddening friction that kept you on the edge.
His eyes shined with a heavy mixture of lust and ownership. In a move of raw, lewd dominance, he spat. The liquid landed with a wet slap directly on your swollen clit that pulsed for attention. The contest between the cool wetness against your burning skin caused a sharp jolt to shoot through your body, making your hips twitch up towards him.
“Now we play,” Ari hummed out, his hand sliding slowly down your body.
He didn’t rush to bring you your release. He brought his thumb down, pressing the calloused pad firmly into the puddle he’d created. He began to move in slow, deliberate circles; just enough pressure to make your head swim, but slow enough to stretch out every second of the sensation. He was molding your pleasure, twisting it into a form that only served him, ensuring that the orgasm he was about to grant you would be inextricably linked to the memory of your own submission.
“Feel that, Sugar? Feel how much you need me to finish this for you?” Ari asked, his breathing heavy, eyes flicking from your soaked cunt to your face.
He increased the speed of the circles slightly, his thumb flicking with a rhythmic precision that matched the shallow, teasing rocks of his cock inside of you. Your face twisted up, letting out a string of cries as you rocked up against him. He was building a storm, a crescendo of sensory overload that threatened to drown out everything but the feeling of his hand. He watched your face, savoring the way your expression blurred into pure, desperate need.
Your hips bucked up against his hand again, a wanton sob falling from your lips.
“Please… Please just let me, please…”
Ari let out a dark chuckle, his thumb pressing harder.
“Please?” Ari mocked with a matching pout, which made you whine and cry out.
The word was music to him.
After spending almost two hours fighting a war against your pride, the sound of you begging was the white flag he had been hunting for. He didn’t immediately give you what you wanted, though. Instead, he slowed his thumb down to a torturous, glacial crawl; teasing you to the very edge of your climax— the coil winding tighter and tighter as your breath came out in breathy hitches, your thighs ached, and you could hear the wetness around the head of his cock which made your cheeks flare up red— before pulling back and leaving you suspended in a state of wound tension.
“No, no, no,” You cried, rocking up shamelessly to get back the same sensation. “Please let me cum. Please, please, please.”
A low, vibrating laugh in his throat made you squeeze your eyes closed, letting the tears fall as he felt your desperate movements.
“Oh, look at you,” Ari teased. “Begging like a little pup in heat.”
Ari's laughter was a cold, taunting thing that echoed through the room, cutting through the sound of your desperate whimpers. He didn't move to help you, didn’t increase the pressure; he simply watched you, his eyes filled with a cruel glint as you continued to buck up beneath him. Your body acted on a primal instinct that Ari had so easily awakened and had completely overridden your mind. All you could think and feel was Ari, and he loved the view— the sight of the woman who had mocked him and spat in his face now reduced to a trembling, pleading mess, fighting for a handful of pleasure that only he could provide.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ari said, halting his movements once again, leaving you to growl out in frustration, which he paid no mind to. “Thought I wasn’t allowed to touch you again?” His voice was a mocking croon, his thumb was hovering just millimeters above your clit; you could feel the heat. “I thought you hated me? Isn’t that what you said, Sugar? Thought you could just walk away from a man like me?”
You frantically shook your head, a pout forming on your lips as Ari’s eyes lit up as he finally made contact with an unrelenting, punishing flick. You arched up against him, your head bending backward and your hands finding his arms.
“You're shaking, Sugar. You're practically vibrating for me.”
He didn't let you answer with words. He began to move his thumb in those same rhythmic, grinding circles, but this time, he increased the pressure, driving you toward the peak with a focused need, as he needed it as much as you did. He suddenly shifted, letting his cock slip out of you before his hips surged forward to replace the thumb with the full, blunt force of the head of his cock, letting it slip over your clit repeatedly before slamming deep into you with a force that knocked out a cry of his name. He didn't stop there; he began to drive into you with a frantic, desperate speed; each thrust was a violent affirmation of his ownership. He leaned down, one hand slipping under your neck, the other pushing on your thigh.
He was no longer teasing; he was determined to push you over the edge, the friction of your bodies creating a heat that felt like it would consume the entire room.
However, the sudden absence of his hand was like a physical blow.
One moment, you were seconds away from the shattering release you had begged for, and the next, you were left shivering in a cold, agonizing void. The sudden drop in stimulation sent you spiraling, your breath coming in ragged, broken sobs that shook your entire frame. You were left stranded at the summit, the tension in your body so tight it felt like a wire stretched to the point of snapping.
He shifted his weight, leaning back on his heels, both hands on your hips, and dragged you with him and began to fuck into you again with shallow, teasing movements. The switching between the two was driving you near-insane. He wasn't trying to reach your depths anymore— like you so desperately wanted, you wanted him to feel you swore you could feel him in your throat; he was merely grazing your entrance, a rhythmic, superficial friction that served only to remind you of what he was withholding.
Ari let out a long, heavy sigh. “I think I wanna see you do it instead.”
He let out a huff of air that was almost a laugh, his eyes scanning your trembling body. He shifted his hips slightly, a small, sharp flick of movement that sent a jolt through you, before settling back into that maddeningly shallow pace. He wanted to see you degrade yourself; he wanted to see the "proud" woman take your own dignity into your own hands just to satisfy the hunger he had created.
“Play with that pretty pussy for me. Show me how much you hate me, Sugar.”
He remained a heavy, unmoving anchor within you, his eyes locked onto your hand, gesturing with a nod of his head towards your core. By the look on his face, you knew he wasn't going to move an inch further until you complied. He wanted the visual— the sight of your fingers working for his own gain, the sound of your whimpering as you tried to find the release he had stolen. He was no longer just possessing your body; he was forcing you to become an accomplice in your own undoing.
You nodded as you slowly reached down, trembling and hesitant.
Ari let out a long moan, deep in his throat, as you let out an airy whine as the pads of your fingers came down over your swollen clit; the pads of your fingers sliding easily with the slick that still pooled there. You knew that for Ari, this had to be what he really wanted— not the moans, not the tears, the words, but the moment you accepted the role of his plaything, performing for his entertainment. He watched with lidded eyes, still rocking the tip of cock in and out of you, his eyes tracking every slide of your fingers, every shudder that wracked your small frame.
“That’s it. Just like that.” His voice was a throaty rumble, thick with pleasure and gratification.
He didn't make it easy for you. Every time you seemed to find a rhythm, every time your breathing hitched in a sign that you were nearing the edge, Ari would shift. He would drive deeper for one sudden, hard thrust, knocking you off balance and stealing your focus before retreating back to those shallow, maddening teases. He acted like the sole conductor of your pleasure, playing your nerves like a finely tuned instrument, ensuring you felt every ounce of your own desperation.
His breath was hot and weighted against your neck. “Faster, Sugar. I wanna see you struggle for it. I wanna see how much you’re begging for me to let go.”
He shifted his grip on you, his large hand coming around your thighs to pull you up closer against him, your ass propped up by his knees, shoulder blades against the carpet, chest flatter against the carpet, forcing you to arch your back up further— making your vulnerability even more acute. He wanted you exposed, he wanted you desperate, and most of all, he wanted you to know that even your own hands were only working because he allowed it.
“Tell me, Sugar. Tell me how it feels to be mine. Don’t go quiet on me now,” Ari pried. “Tell me how much you love being my little toy while you do it.”
Your fingers picked up speed, rolling the sensitive bundle between their pads.
“Please,” You gasped out. “Please, m’so close.”
Ari let out something between a laugh and a groan. “Almost there, aren’t you?”
You nodded, lips parted, just as the tension reached a fever pitch, just as the first sparks of a climax began to coil tight, before it shone in your eyes, Ari acted. With a sudden, violent thrust of his hips, he drove himself deep— too deep and too fast— shattering the delicate rhythm you had painstakingly built. The impact was jarring, a physical shock that sent a wave of frustration through your system, knocking you completely off the ledge you had been clinging to.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried, unable to help yourself as you let out a desperate whine. “Ari!”
The rhythm was gone.
The momentum was dead.
You were left gasping, your body trembling in the sudden void of interrupted pleasure. The sheer cruelty of the timing was a psychological blow as much as a physical one; he had let you see the finish line only to tear it away at the final second.
“That’s not what I wanna hear, Sugar,” Ari scolded softly, hand coming up to grip at your chin, the palm of his hand applying a slight pressure to your throat.
He waited, staying buried deep inside you, a heavy, unyielding weight that felt like a seal on your fate. Your walls clenched and clung to him as he leaned down to brush his lips over yours before capturing you in a soft kiss, his tongue rolling against yours for a fleeting moment before he pulled back and leaned down. He peppered kisses from the thumb on the column of your neck, up to the shell of your ear, his voice vibrating through you with a manipulated darkness that threatened to keep pulling you further down.
“I didn’t ask if you were close,” He rasped. “I asked how it feels to be mine.”
He shifted slightly, a tiny, teasing rotation of his hips that sent a fresh jolt of longing through you, but he kept you pinned against him, keeping your legs parted so he could get a full view of your own hand still hovering near your heat, useless without his permission to continue. He was savoring it— enjoying it; the absolute silence of your pride, replaced by the loud, frantic drumming of your heart and the broken sound of your breathing.
“Say it,” Ari commanded, his tone dripping with a mocking, silky sweetness. “Say the words I want, Sugar, and maybe— just maybe— I’ll let you finish.”
You let out something between a sob and a moan, a small shake of your head before you gave in.
“I love being your toy,” You whispered, the words feeling heavy and filthy on your tongue. “I’m yours. Please, Ari. Please.”
The admission was a broken, fragile thing that signaled the complete dissolution of your will. You didn’t wanna fight him any longer. You still wanted him; you wanted the fantasy, and if this was the only way to get it—then so be it. It wasn't just a lie to get what you wanted; it was the sound of a woman who had been stripped of everything until the only thing left was the need for the man above you to stop the torture— or start it; you didn’t know anymore.
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, acting as the final key to the lock.
Ari let out a long, shuddering breath that sounded more like the predator finally closing its jaws. He had you. He had you right where he wanted you.
“Good girl,” He cooed out, that mocking tone still laced with every word he spoke. “That’s it. That’s my girl. There’s my baby.”
The change in him was instantaneous.
The cruelty vanished, replaced by an all-too-familiar face. There he was. Your Ari. He seized your hand, pulling it away from your body with a sharp tug, and replaced it with his own. He didn't use the slow, teasing circles this time; he used a firm, rhythmic pressure, his thumb working in tandem with a sudden, violent resurgence of his hips. The tease was over, and in its place came a storm of relentless, focused stimulation. He drove into you with a fervent speed, his thumb grinding into your clit with a fierce precision that left no room for hesitation. The collision of the two sensations– the deep, heavy thud of his body and the sharp, electric friction of his hand— was too much.
You let out a broken, high-pitched cry as your climax finally hit you. It was a violent wave that crashed over your entire body, leaving your muscles seizing and your mind blank; however, Ari didn't stop. He kept fucking you right through the peak, his thrusts jarring and deep, forcing you to feel every single ounce of your own release as it merged with the unrelenting power of his movement. It was like he wanted you to be completely undone, to feel the pleasure as something he had granted and something he still controlled.
“There…” Ari began to moan out in between heavy pants and labored sighs. “That’s it… Take it all, Sugar. Know you can.”
He let out a ragged, heavy breath, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back. He stayed buried inside you for a few moments more, savoring the way you shivered and gasped beneath him, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you pliant, shattered, and spent. Then, with a sudden shift in energy, he pulled back.
“My turn.” Ari’s voice was a sordid promise— one you didn’t know how you were going to survive; one you didn’t know if you wanted to.
Ari gripped you by the waist and hoisted you up with ease, your body feeling like nothing in his massive arms. He carried you the short distance to the bed, tossing you onto the plush mattress with a blunt lack of ceremony. Before you could even roll over, he was there, lounging back against the headboard and pulling you onto his lap.
He sat you astride him, your legs framing his hips, stretched to capacity over his thick thighs, your chest heaving as you looked down at him. Ari's eyes were dark, his pupils blown, looking up at you with a mixture of predatory lust and a cold, possessive success. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin to anchor you in place, ensuring you felt the full, pulsing length of him beneath you.
“Put those legs to work, Sugar. Make me cum,” Ari commanded with a deep drawl. Ari watched with a thick anticipation as you reached under and lifted up into your knees, your fingers wrapping around his length. You stoked the underside of his cock, running your thumb down that thick vein that made him let out a hiss of air. You nudged the head against your clit, rocking for a moment. “Fucking… finally.”
He stayed anchored, his massive hands gripping your hips with enough pressure to leave bruises, forcing you to take full control of the movement. The sensation of your delicate fingers stroking the underside of his shaft, combined with the slow, agonizing tease of the head grazing your clit made you let out a long, drawn-out whine as Ari let out a throaty groan. He watched you through hooded eyes, his gaze tracking your flushed, tear-stained face.
“Don't just tease me, baby. I've been patient enough tonight,” Ari said, almost pleading.
You lifted up as much as your legs allowed, fighting through the shakiness of your thighs, as you nudged the tip against your wet hole, taking in sharp gasps as you began to sink down on him. The stretch seemed more this way, filling you more than before.
Ari let out a low, guttural groan that sounded more like a snarl, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Fuck…”
The slow, deliberate descent was a different kind of torture. As you sank down, the friction was visceral, the wet heat of your body wrapping around him in a tight, desperate grip. Ari's fingers dug deeper into your hips, his knuckles white, as he felt you slowly encompass him, inch by agonizing inch. You knew he could feel the tremor in your thighs, the way your body was still sensitive and humming for him, and it only drove his need higher.
Once you were fully seated, bottoming out against him, Ari's eyes snapped open. They were void of any remaining tenderness, replaced by that raw, pulsing hunger. He didn't let you settle for long. He gripped your waist and began to thrust upward, meeting your descent with a powerful, rhythmic surge that forced you to bounce on him, pulling pitched moans with every jolt.
“Look at you... taking it all,” Ari rasped out, breathless as he tilted his head back against the headboard, watching you closely. “Oh, fuck it.”
He accelerated the pace, his movements becoming less about pleasure and more about a desperate, driving need to fill you up. It was like he was using you as nothing more than a vessel; his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as he pushed himself toward the edge, his grip on your hips so tight that you cried out, your hands ending up flat on his chest.
His eyes locked onto yours with a taunting gleam. “What was it you said yesterday?” Ari asked, head cocking to the side slightly as he thrust upward with a sudden, violent force, making your entire body buck and making your breath hitch. He didn't slow down, keeping a relentless pace that forced you to cling to his shoulders for balance. He was no longer just seeking his own release; he was weaving your previous insults back into the act— turning your own words into a leash. His voice was a deep rumble, his grip tightening on your hips until his fingertips sank into your skin. “A communal fleshlight? Hmm?”
He let out a dark, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you. He watched your face, searching for the flicker of shame or the return of that defiant spark, wanting to see your struggle with the reality of your current position, but it was long gone. All that was left was the sheer need to keep him buried deep inside you, to lose yourself in hun. He was the one who had broken you, the one who had forced the submission from your lips, and now he was making you inhabit the very role you had used to mock them.
His voice dropped to a lethal hiss that made you choke back a sob.
“Just a fucking hole. That’s all you are now, Sugar. Just a place for me to put this—“ He slammed into you, causing you to sink your nails into his bicep, your forehead touching his as you keened upwards. “A place for us all.”
The words were spat out with a clinical coldness, designed to strip away whatever dignity you had managed to claw back in the aftermath of your orgasm. He didn't pause for a reaction. Instead, he surged upward one more time, another brutal, bottoming-out thrust that seemed to aim for your very core, anchoring you to him with a possessive violence.
He began to move again, but the rhythm had shifted. It was no longer about the slow, seductive build or the playful torture. It was a raw, driving necessity. He used his strength to control your every movement, his hands acting like vices on your hips as he dictated the depth and speed of your collision. He was erasing you as a person, reducing you to the very thing he had just named— a tool for his own gratification— and you were letting it happen.
The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat; the only sounds were the rhythmic, wet slapping of your bodies and Ari's heavy, ragged breathing mixing with your moans and the breathy chants of his name. He was close now, his muscles coiled and trembling under the skin, his focus narrowed down to the tight, hot grip of your body around him. He let out a low, animalistic grunt, his movements becoming frantic, a desperate scramble for the finish line before seemingly changing his mind, pulling out of you with a grunt and wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, letting out a long, shaky breath.
“Oh, fuck,” He moaned out. “Fuck, that’s— That fucking cunt, sneaky little thing.”
The frantic violence of the moment suddenly vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating stillness and heavy breaths.
He looked up at you, his eyes half-lidded and dark, glazed with a mixture of lingering lust and an insatiable need. He wasn't finished with you— not even close— but he leaned back like he wanted to savor the wreckage. His eyes wandered to your core, as if searching for the physical evidence of what he had done to you; to see the way your body had been stretched to accommodate him.
“Spread that cunt open for me.” He spoke with a deep hum, a demanding croon; the sound of a man who owned every inch of the room and the woman in it. He shifted his grip, his hands sliding from your hips to the backs of your thighs, his large palms pressing firmly against your skin. He didn't push you; he simply waited, the expectation of obedience hanging in the air like a blade. The smirk on his lips made you lean forward a little. There was no doubt that you were going to do it; that you were going to willingly display your vulnerability, to show him the very place where he had spent the night breaking you. “Let me see it. Let me see how I've wrecked it. Show me.”
He remained perfectly still, his breathing ragged, his gaze fixed intently on the point where you were joined. He was demanding a final act of submission, a visual surrender that would cement your new status as nothing more than an object for his observation and use.
Ari let out a long, slow exhale, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched your fingers tremble as you reached down to slide a hand to part yourself for him, fighting off the shame that wanted to bloom across your cheeks. He watched with a dark, focused intensity as your fingers pulled yourself open, exposing the raw, swollen reality of your encounter.
“That's it. Good girl,” Ari praised, voice almost a whisper.
The sight was so visceral that you couldn’t bring yourself to look down until Ari guided your gaze with a simple flick of his eyes— the flush of your skin, the glistening wetness, and the way your body had clung to him even in this state of exposure. To Ari, it wasn't just sex; it was a ledger of his victory, a physical map of where he had overridden your will and where he had left his mark. For you, it was everything you had wanted, even if it meant pretending you were elsewhere.
He didn't look away. His gaze remained fixed on the intersection of your bodies, his pupils blown wide. Slowly, Ari shifted one of his hands from your thigh as he positioned himself back against your hole, and you knew better than to move your hand away until you got his say-so. He helped you settle back down on him before letting you sit back, giving him a full view of you stretched to the limit around his cock until he reached forward, his large, calloused fingers moving with a sudden contrast of gentleness and intent. He began to trace the perimeter where your soft, swollen flesh was stretched tight around the thick diameter of his length.
His touch was light, almost a caress, but the intent behind it was purely possessive. Your muscles twitched under his fingertips, a shiver rolling through you from the contact. He traced the rim of your opening, feeling the heat and the tension, as if mapping out the limits of your elasticity. He let out a deep, contemplative hum, his breath hitching as he felt you clench instinctively.
“Wonder if I could stretch this any more?”
He didn't wait for an answer.
He applied a small, sudden pressure, pressing a finger against the edge of your opening to test the skin's resistance. You gasped and flinched, but Ari’s heavy hand on your hip kept you firmly in place. The movement was almost clinical, his eyes searching for that familiar spark of fear or the blankness of total surrender in your eyes. He was no longer just thinking about his own release; he was thinking about the capacity of the "toy" he had been given, wondering exactly how much he could break you before you truly snapped.
“I bet I could. I bet I could make you take even more than this, couldn't I, Sugar?” Ari asked, a silky whisper that made you whimper and shake your head, but you still felt the familiar ache as you clenched around him, and you knew you were going to have no choice. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Shaking that pretty head, but your body is saying something else entirely.”
Ari tightened his grip on your thigh, pulling himself up so there was no gap, no air, only the crushing weight of his presence. You shuddered under his gaze as Ari withdrew his hand from the intimate, swollen heat of your body, but the sudden release brought no comfort. He didn't move away; he simply brought his hand up, the fingers glistening with your own fluids and the evidence of your encounter. He didn't offer a gentle touch. He pressed his fingers firmly against your lips, the smell of your sex filling the small space between them, forcing you to face the reality of what he had just done to you.
“Get 'em wet.” He didn't nudge or plead; it was an order, delivered with the same absolute authority he used to manage the family's dirty work. He held his fingers there, a barrier between you and the air, waiting for you to comply. The contrast was stark— softness of your pouty lips against the calloused, rough skin of his hand. He wanted you to taste yourself on him, to swallow the evidence of your own surrender. “Do it now, or it's really gonna suck for you.”
The threat was unspoken but clear.
Ari had spent the last hour playing with the boundary between pleasure and pain, and he was more than willing to tilt the scale back toward the latter if you hesitated. He remained anchored beneath you, his cock still filling you, a heavy reminder that he held every card in this game. He watched your eyes, waiting for the moment you accepted that your only option was to obey.
You parted your lips and slowly sucked his fingers into your mouth, your hand coming up to wrap pathetically around his large wrist. Ari let out a long exhale as your hand came into contact with his wrist.
“That’s it, baby. Now you’re learning. Just gotta listen, gotta behave.”
Ari watched you, heavy and possessive, as you took his fingers into your mouth. He didn't just let you suck; he exerted a small, controlling pressure, his rough fingers sliding against your tongue and the roof of your mouth, forcing you to accommodate him. He seemed to savor the way your hand wrapped around his wrist with a pathetic, desperate need for stability, as if he were the only thing keeping you from dissolving entirely.
Your other hand came up, fingernails scratching softly at the back of his hand, your thumbs pushed into his palm as your tongue rolled against the calloused fingertips. You let out a lengthy, heated hum around his fingers and rocked your hips down against him.
A growl ripped from his throat, his muscles locking tight. “You little…”
The sudden shift in your behavior— the way you began to actively seek him out, your nails scratching at his skin and your hips rocking in a slow, desperate invitation— sent a surge of fresh, violent lust through him. He had spent the night breaking you, and now that you had allowed yourself to be broken, you were becoming something far more dangerous: a creature that craved the very hand that crushed you. The humming vibration of your throat against his fingers echoed the pulsing need deep in his own gut.
Ari didn't let you continue the tease for long.
He abruptly withdrew his fingers from your mouth with a sharp flick, his hand moving with a blur of speed to grip the back of your neck; his hold was iron, forcing your head back and exposing your throat to the dim light of the room. He looked up at you, his eyes void of everything but a raw, animalistic hunger, his chest heaving beneath you.
“You like it, don't you?” He surged upward with a sudden, explosive force, his hips slamming into you with everything he had. The impact was a brutal taking that knocked the breath from your lungs and sent you sliding up his body. He began to drive into you with a frantic, punishing rhythm, his movements primal. He was no longer conducting a symphony of submission; he was simply drowning in you. “I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, Sugar… you're going to forget how to even breathe without me…”
The violent intensity of his thrusts reached a fever pitch, the room echoing with the sound of Ari’s desperate thrusts and your needy moans. Ari was a force of nature, his muscles coiled and trembling, his focus narrowed entirely to the friction and heat of your body. Just as he neared the edge, he shifted. He didn't pull away, but he adjusted his grip on your neck, releasing you just enough to slide his hand back down. With a sharp, commanding movement, he thrust his fingers back toward your face, offering them up like a prize— or a leash. He didn't stop his hips; he kept a steady, grinding pace, his cock acting as a heavy, pulsing anchor that kept you pinned to him even as he demanded your focus elsewhere.
He gave a jagged command, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive fire. “Take them.”
Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and let him thrust his fingers back into your mouth, humming around them.
Ari let out a hiss, his hips bucking upward to meet you. “That's it... just like that.”
The sound of you humming around his fingers, the vibration of it traveling up his arm and settling in his chest, was the final trigger. He wasn't just possessing your body anymore; he had your senses completely occupied. Your mouth was full of him, your body was filled with him, and your mind was reduced to a singular, pulsing need for the man who had dismantled you.
Ari's movements became frantic.
He stopped the grinding and shifted into deep, violent plunges, each one driving you higher and higher until you collapsed on him, your face was snug against his throat, lips parted around his fingers as you cried out above him. He gripped your waist so hard his fingerprints were undoubtedly printing bruises onto your skin, his knuckles white. He was no longer the composed, cold right-hand of the family; he was a man possessed by a dark, singular obsession.
Ari’s voice was jagged, letting out a broken groan, his eyes blowing wide as the peak hit him. “You're mine… fucking mine…”
He didn't let the momentum die. Even as the first waves of his release began to coil in his gut, Ari refused to let the act be passive. It’s like he wanted you to be the one to push him over the precipice; he wanted you to be the instrument of his undoing. He shifted his grip, his massive hands sliding from your waist to the underside of your thighs, lifting you slightly to create a gap before letting you drop back down with a heavy, wet thud.
“Bounce on it, baby, come on,” Ari moaned out, deep and desperate. He began to thrust upward with a violent, rhythmic urgency, forcing your body to mirror his desperation. You kept your hands locked around his wrist, fucking yourself back onto him. He wasn't just asking for movement; he was demanding a performance of pure, unadulterated need. The room was a blur of heat and sound, the heavy scent of your union clinging to the air like a shroud. “Yeah, bounce on my cock, Sugar... make me cum, Sugar. Gonna fill you up. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Your teeth dug into the flesh of his fingers slightly, letting out muffled cries as you bounded feverishly, which earned you a strangled grunt from Ari, it ripping out of his throat.
“Fuck!”
The sharp, sudden prick of pain was the final spark to the powder keg.
It must have sent a jolt of electricity straight to his core, syncing perfectly with the desperate, frantic rhythm of your hips as Ari's entire body went rigid, his back arching off the mattress as the orgasm tore through him with a violent, unchecked intensity. He didn't pull away from the bite; instead, he leaned into it, the pain only fueling the raw, animalistic nature of his release. He gripped your thighs with a crushing force, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to keep you locked against him as he spilled himself deep inside you.
The world narrowed down to the sound of your combined, ragged breathing.
For several long seconds, neither of you moved, suspended in the heavy, shimmering aftermath of a battle that had left you both physically and emotionally spent; a battle that both of you won and both of you lost. Slowly, Ari's muscles began to slacken. His grip on your thighs loosened, and he finally withdrew his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. He didn't push you off him immediately; he simply lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes half-closed and glazed with a dark, lingering satisfaction. He looked up at you— flushed, shaking, and completely undone— and a ghost of a smirk touched his lips.
“Look at you,” Ari mused, barely more than a whisper.
You hummed, your legs shaking as they remained stretched over him. You reached for his hand, fingers gently stroking against the bite marks. Your body still felt alive— wound, like you weren’t ready to give in just yet. You couldn’t let it be over. You slowly guided his hand down your body and back between your legs as you kept your gaze locked on his.
Ari let out a deep huff of air, his eyes tracking your every movement with a heavy, hooded gaze. “Still hungry, are you?”
You let out another hum and gave him a nod.
He didn't resist you. You knew he wouldn’t.
He let his hand be guided; his large, calloused palm sliding over the wetness of your thighs until he felt the heat of you. The difference between you was painstakingly obvious— his hand was steady and dominant, while your fingers were trembling, still humming with the electricity of the encounter. He didn't rush to apply pressure; he simply rested his hand there, feeling the way you squeezed around him, the need for your orgasm thrumming through your body.
Ari looked up at you, the coldness that usually defined his features softened by an amused, possessive haze. He watched the way your hair spilled across his chest and shoulders, almost like a curtain that isolated you from the rest of the house and the other men waiting for their turn.
“You're a greedy little thing, Sugar,” Ari cooed as his fingers began to curl, grazing your clit with a skilled precision.
He didn't start a full-blown assault; instead, he began a slow, torturous exploration. He used his fingertips to trace the swollen edges of your opening, testing the sensitivity he had spent the last hour heightening. Every small flick of his wrist sent a fresh spark through you, reminding you that while the storm had passed, he still held the lightning.
His eyes locked onto yours, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Do you want more, Sugar? Do you want me to keep ruining you until you can't even remember your own name?”
“Don't stop…” You whined out behind a bitten lip, staring at him with pleading, desperate eyes.
A dark laugh rippled through his chest, his fingers suddenly pressing firmly down on your clit. “Careful what you wish for, Sugar.”
Ari's hand shifted from a tease to a focused assault. He knew exactly where your nerves were raw, exactly how much pressure would push you back toward the ledge. He began to work you with a need that matched your own, his fingers sliding through the wetness he had created, mirroring the heavy, pulsing presence of his cock that still filled you.
He watched your face, the way your expression shifted from desperation to pure, unadulterated need. His own eyes lit up at the sigh, and you wondered if he loved the way your eyes glazed over— the same way you loved when his would turn almost black. You wondered if he liked the way your lip stayed caught between your teeth— the same way you liked it when his face would twist up when you would squeeze him just right. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was no longer just satisfying a physical urge; as much as he was cementing a psychological tether, ensuring that your pleasure was entirely dependent on his whim, he was enjoying the link to you. He was letting himself feel— even if for a moment.
Ari’s hips gave a slow, shallow buck upward.
“Look at you,” Ari said, “Begging for it again. After everything I just did to you.”
He increased the speed of his fingers, his movements becoming a blur of friction and heat. Your walls clenched around his softening cock, your body reacting instinctively to the renewed stimulation. He was building the tension again, a second wave of sensory overload that threatened to drown you. He leaned up slightly, his lips grazing your jawline, his breath hot and heavy.
“You're already becoming such a little addict, aren't you? Addicted to the way I break you. You’re gonna be so fun to pass along, Sugar.” Ari whispered, his tone dripping with a lethal sweetness.
You groaned at him, throwing your words back at you, but despite it, you began to arch your back, your breath hitching in anticipation of another climax, but Ari suddenly stopped. He didn't pull his hand away, but he froze every movement, leaving you suspended in that agonizing, white-hot void once again. He stayed perfectly still, ignoring and enjoying the way you cried out, his eyes locked onto yours, watching the frustration ripple through your shaking frame.
“Not yet. Tell me who you belong to. Tell me who owns every single inch of this greedy little body,” Ari rasped out.
“You own me, please,” You sobbed out desperately.
A dark, triumphant hum vibrated deep in his chest, his eyes darkening as he savored the sound. “That's right. Every single inch.”
The admission was the final piece of the puzzle.
For Ari, the physical act was the method, but this verbal surrender was the goal. For you, it was continuing the lie you had built up in your head.
He didn't reward you immediately; he let the words hang in the air, letting the weight of your submission sink in until you were trembling with the effort of holding yourself up on him. He watched the way your eyes were clouded with need; your spirit stripped bare and laid open for his inspection.
Then, with a sudden, violent surge of motion, Ari snapped. He didn't just resume the stimulation; he unleashed it. His hand became a blur of rhythmic, crushing pressure against your clit, while you chanted his name out like a prayer. He wasn't teasing anymore. He was driving you straight into the wall, forcing your body to collapse under the weight of a second, even more intense climax; your whole body seizing up and then breaking under it.
“Don't you dare close your eyes,” Ari growled up at you, his thumb pressing in with a ruthless skill. “Want you to see me while you fall apart.
You kept your eyes locked on his as you let out a string of broken moans.
The room around you dissolved into a kaleidoscope of sensation.
Your vision blurred at the edges, but you fought to keep your gaze anchored to Ari's. You saw the hunger in his eyes, the dark triumph of a man who had not only claimed your body but had successfully and undoubtedly dismantled you. Every broken moan that escaped your lips was a testament to his control. You were shaking, your entire frame vibrating with the force of a release that felt less like pleasure and more like a total systemic collapse.
“That's it... Break for me... Just fucking break…”
As the waves of the orgasm slowly receded, leaving you limp and gasping, Ari didn't immediately pull away. He stayed buried deep inside you. He looked up at you, his expression a complex mixture of cold satisfaction and a strange, dark intensity that seemed to border on obsession. He had pushed you further than any of the other men had yet, which made your stomach want to turn up with dread. The sight of him— completely spent, little puffs of breath leaving through his parted lips, the strands of his long hair stuck to his damp forehead— helped push the feeling down for a little while longer.
Slowly, with a lingering, heavy friction, Ari withdrew from you. The sudden absence of his warmth felt like a cold shock to your sensitive system. He didn't help you up; he simply sat back against the headboard, watching as you slumped over his legs, cheek ending up laid against his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. He reached out, his large hand gripping the back of your neck one last time, not with violence, but with a firm, grounding pressure that reminded you exactly where you stood.
“You did well tonight, Sugar,” Ari said, voice sounding thick with a tenderness that didn’t seem right in the space he had created, but you took it away.
He let out a slow, shuddering breath, his eyes scanning the room as the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by the oppressive silence of the manor. The high of the conquest was still there, but the reality of the situation— the debt, the family, the rotation— settled back in. He shifted his hand from your neck to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, which was still swollen from his fingers.
His gaze locked onto yours— a dark, warning glint returning to his eyes.
“Don't think this means I've gone soft. You’ve got half an hour until Curtis is at that door, and he isn't nearly as... patient... as I am.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the lingering weight of a psychological storm. Ari didn't move to comfort you. He didn't offer a blanket or a gentle word. He simply watched you for a moment longer, his gaze almost clinical once more, as if he were examining a piece of equipment he had pushed to its absolute limit to see if it would break. The rhythmic thudding of his heart began to slow, but the possessive energy still radiated off him in waves.
He finally shifted, sliding out from under you with a fluid, practiced grace. The loss of his body heat left you shivering in the dampness of the sheets, and you bit back a plea for him to come back. Ari stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow over your curled-up form. He didn't look back as he walked toward the ensuite bathroom, the sound of the shower starting up and the steam beginning to leak back into the bedroom; and for a long while after, the only sound was the hiss of the water and your own shallow, trembling breaths.
Then, the shower stopped.
Ari emerged, a towel wrapped low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to the hard planes of his chest and the dark hair of his stomach. He didn't speak as he dressed, his movements efficient and cold, the "right hand" of the family returning to his professional shell.
“Clean yourself up. I don't want you smelling like me when Curtis walks through that door tomorrow morning. He won’t like it,” Ari instructed, not looking at you as he pulled his shirt over his head and smoothed it out.
He walked to the door, his hand gripping the handle and pulling it open. He paused for a fraction of a second, the silhouette of his massive shoulders blocking the light from the hallway.
Wait,” You called out after him.
You didn’t expect it, but he stopped.
While he didn't turn around immediately. He remained frozen, his hand still clamped on the brass handle, his broad back a wall of muscle that seemed to shrink the room. In the hours you had spent together, every interaction had been a battle of wills or a lesson in submission.
“Just... Just come pretend with me for a moment,” You finally pleaded, fighting against the tiredness that pulled at your eyelids.
The request hung in the air, fragile and incongruous against the backdrop of the wreckage in the bed. The word pretend felt alien in this house, a place where every cruelty was honest, and every boundary was meant to be demolished. Ari didn't move for several seconds. His shoulders were tense, his grip on the door handle so tight the metal seemed to groan.
“Come here.” Your voice was small and quiet.
The silence was heavy, save for the distant, rhythmic ticking of a clock somewhere in the manor's bowels. He remained a silhouette against the hallway light, his mind likely racing through the logic of the request.
Pretend.
It was a dangerous word. It implied a world where he wasn't a captor, and you weren't a debt-ridden asset. It was a request for a lie, a momentary truce in a war where he had already declared himself the victor.
Slowly, with a deliberate, heavy movement, he turned. He didn't look soft; his face was still a mask of cold, professional indifference, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or a remnant of the man he had been before the divorce and the darkness of his family's business—in the depth of his eyes. He didn't speak. He simply watched you, his gaze tracking the way you lay there, small and broken among the rumpled sheets.
Ari moved with a heavy, reluctant grace. He didn't rush; every step was a measured calculation, as if he were stepping into a minefield. The distance between the door and the bed felt vast, the atmosphere shifting from the coldness of a command to something thick, suffocating, and dangerously intimate.
He sank to one knee beside the mattress. His massive frame, even while kneeling, dominated the space, his presence a crushing weight. He didn't speak, his expression guarded, his jaw tight. He stayed perfectly still, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting. He was giving you the space to bridge the gap, as if testing whether this "pretend" was a genuine plea for comfort or another, more subtle form of psychological warfare.
As you shuffled toward him, your movements slow and trembling, Ari's gaze followed you with a hooded intensity. He waited until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. Slowly, almost tentatively, Ari reached out. His hand, large enough to cover your entire side, moved with a gentleness that felt wrong in the context of your night together. He smoothed his palm down your side, the calloused skin grazing your ribs in a slow, grounding motion. Ari let out a long, shaky breath, his voice a fractured rumble that barely sounded like him.
“What the hell is this, Sugar?”
Despite his questioning, he didn't pull away. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of your waist with a tentative curiosity. It seemed like, for the first time, he wasn't seeking a reaction of fear or submission; he was simply feeling you, as if trying to remember how to touch something without intending to break it.
“Just for a minute,” You coaxed.
You reached up to stroke your fingers through his damp hair, nails scratching softly at his scalp. You saw his eyes flutter closed; a muffled noise— halfway between a sigh and a groan— escaped his throat.
The touch must have been a shock to his system. For a man who lived in a world of violence, blackmail, and cold calculations, this kind of tenderness had to be an anomaly. You guessed it was a vulnerability he hadn't permitted himself in a long time. As your fingers drifted through his damp hair and your nails grazed his scalp, you felt a sudden, violent tension snap within him. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned into your hand, his forehead dropping forward to rest against your shoulder.
“This is what I hoped for when I met you the first time,” You admitted, voice almost a whisper. “That maybe I'd get to run away, and you'd follow me, and we'd have a home, and spend our nights curled up just like this.”
The confession must have hit Ari with more force than any of the physical battles he had ever fought. For a long moment, he remained frozen, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. The image you had painted— a home, a life, a quiet sanctuary— was a ghost of a dream you didn’t know he had buried under layers of cynicism and blood. It was a fantasy that had no place in the manor, and certainly no place between a captor and his toy.
“And then you ruined it.”
You pushed yourself away from him, sliding off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom without looking back, the door shutting heavily behind you. The click of the bathroom door was as final as a gunshot in the sudden, oppressive silence of the room. You let yourself sag against the door, bringing your hands up to cover your face while you waited for the lock to click. When it finally rang out, you pulled your hands down and inspected them. The phantom sensation of your nails on his scalp lingered, a ghostly caress that now felt like a brand.
Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. And a boyfriend. Integrating two asocial partners sounds difficult, but it might be easier than anyone thinks.
Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader; Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes; eventual Steve/Bucky/Reader – Female Reader
Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense
Chapter 7: Falcon Punch
Chapter Summary: Wherein poor Sam really needs to make some better friends, and Bucky bonds over being obnoxious.
Chapter Warnings: Text messaging including misspellings, emojis, and obnoxious punctuation.
Chapter Word Count: 2438
~
It was a boring day, and my boyfriend was away on business.
Not terrible business, thankfully, but work was work as far as I was concerned, especially when I knew Steve probably had to do a lot of talking to a lot of people. Poor thing. But the Avengers stuff had been mildly interesting after the fact. I always waited for an ‘all clear’ from Steve before I allowed myself to look at news after combat, and this time was quieter than the others. It was related to the alien thing that had happened recently, but this time the Avengers were prepared and had extra help, so I could look at my friends being cool without the accompanying dread.
Tony and Thor had both made faces that landed them in meme territory before the dust had settled. I wasn’t sure which one of them would be funnier to send to Tony as a reaction image, so I saved them both. Steve was cute as ever, and I preened a little at some of the comments before moving on.
Sam in particular was far and away the internet darling this time, doing cool shit in the air that everyone was fawning over. Appropriately, but he was my friend, and it felt weird to just text him how awesome he looked. I chose not to look any deeper at what that probably said about me, and opened up my conversation with him.
Me: Hey Sam
Me: I will pay you five whole dollars if you somehow work in a ‘Falcon Punch!’
Me: On TV or in a fight; I will accept the honor system if the retelling is funny enough
It only took a few minutes for him to get back to me.
Sam: A whole five dollars, huh?
Sam: Will you also pay to fend off Nintendo’s lawyers?
Me: You’re no fun
I flopped back onto my bed and almost let it go. Until I realized– I was on friendly(-ish) terms with someone who could pay to fend off a litigious horde. And who possibly might.
Me: Actually, hold that thought
I flipped over to open a brand-new conversation.
Me: Hey Stark
Me: Weird question- if I got Sam to do something funny, would you front the potential legal fees?
Tony: I’m intrigued.
I had to think of how to sell it.
Me: I’m trying to get him to use ‘Falcon punch!’ in a fight or an interview
Me: But he’s worried about Nintendo’s legal team
Me: So…funny enough to fend off a C&D?
It took a few seconds.
Tony: How dare you
Tony: I’m so offended
Tony: How did you come up with this before me?!
I rolled my eyes.
Me: I’m here to look cute and give bad ideas
Tony: Stop coming for my job!
I stuck my tongue at the phone. And then noticed Sam was sending me more texts– the first two just being my name. Uh oh.
Sam: What did you do?
Sam: Why is Tony texting me about Captain Falcon?
Sam: Why is Tony talking about redoing my costume?!
Whoops. I thought about explaining myself, but I just screenshot the conversation with Tony and sent it to him.
Me: So good news: you’re covered!
Sam: Oh I hate you
Me: Yeah that’s probably fair
Me: I’ll make it ten bucks <3
Sam: You owe me goddamned dinner
Sam: I won’t stop hearing about this until I do it
Me: Dinner it is
Poor Sam. But I couldn’t wait to hear about it. Over dinner.
~
I heard a knock later that night. I paused and wondered what the best way to handle this was– it was obviously Bucky. But if I didn’t do my due diligence, he was going to be disappointed, and he was getting too damn good at that face.
Me: Are you the one knocking at my door?
Bucky: You’re not gonna check?
Me: What if it’s someone waiting with a gun aimed at the peephole just waiting to take me out?
It took him a few moments to type.
Bucky: imm s o
Bucky: I’m so proud of you right now
I burst out laughing. “You’re such a fucking weirdo!” I said on my way to the door and immediately unlocked it. Despite all of that, I still got the scowl of disappointment, but Bucky slipped his phone away even as he let out a sigh of disgust.
“You didn’t wait for the all clear,” he grumbled as he slipped in past me.
“If I texted you that someone was at my door and it wasn’t you, you would have just said so,” I said. “Or, if you were feeling really antsy, you would have told me to wait for you to come over.”
The scowl became a pout. “I am not that predictable,” he said, and I could feel like there was an unspoken ‘anymore’ being appended to the end of that.
“Don’t get too creative with it,” I said and rolled my eyes as I locked my door again. “If– if– you come up with a reasonable procedure you want me to follow, I might go along with it.”
“Might,” Bucky said, but his expression was lightening.
“Reasonable,” I said as sternly as I could. “Maybe run the first draft past Steve before you bring any of it to me.”
He nodded. And then we just…stood there. Things were so much easier when you had someone in common to fill the silence. Someone who actually liked to talk.
“I’m playing a racing game,” I said and gestured at the TV. “Do you wanna try for player two?”
He shook his head. “Can I watch?”
“Sure!” I almost started for the couch but stopped. “Do you want something to drink?”
He seemed to give it serious thought. He looked between me and the kitchen a few times, and I almost started to reassure him, but he gave me a sharp look and I kept my mouth shut. Right; probably wasn’t good to press him one way or another. ‘Making one’s own decisions’ and all that.
“No thank you,” he said, and went over to the chair. I had set a nice plush blanket on it, but he took it off and set it on the table. I tried not to look too invested in that as I wandered back to my seat. It probably said something that I couldn’t even really ask him about his preferences, but to be honest, we all knew I wasn’t much better at talking than he was.
Case in point– when I was taking a long, drawn-out curve as fast as I could without crashing, and he asked, out of nowhere, “What’s a ‘Falcon Punch?’”
I crashed. And I paused for a moment while I tried to figure out how to answer. However, there was a hot rush of rage from the center of my stomach. “Are you still listening in on–?!”
“I heard it from Steve,” Bucky said quickly. He put his hands up, and his eyes were a little wider. “He was telling me. ‘Cause Wilson was…annoyed.”
The anger melted right away, and while I felt relieved, I also felt embarrassed. “Um…sorry.”
“No, that’s reasonable,” he said. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. I only bugged Steve’s phone before because I needed to know where he was. Explosives, y’know.”
“I can imagine.” I took a deep breath. Okay, attempted murder avoided. I then pressed out of the crash screen and back to track selection. I turned to face him fully. “Was Steve annoyed too?” I asked.
“No,” Bucky said. I was a little disappointed, but then he said, “He was laughing. Wilson sounded real put out about it though.”
That was even better. “Sam was talking about it? What did he say?” I asked, eager to hear about how my nonsense had been received.
Bucky sort of froze, though, and he hung his head. “When Steve told me about it, on the phone,” he admitted. “Wilson was just interjecting. In the background.” Bucky lifted his head and looked at me. “He complained a lot…but also he laughed once.”
“Nice,” I said, proud enough at that. Sam had a good sense of humor, but sometimes I missed the line even when I was trying. It was good to know I hadn’t irrevocably fucked anything up. Bucky still seemed perturbed, though. I nudged him gently. “What’s eating you?”
He tilted his head from side to side, almost like he was slowly stretching his neck, then he leaned back against the chair and let his head flop back so he was staring at the ceiling. “What’s he like to talk to?” Bucky asked and looked at me again.
“Sam? He’s really nice,” I said. “But not too nice. It feels really easy to talk to him. But not too easy–”
Bucky snorted, and I had to reassess what I was actually trying to say. I sighed. Talking was so hard. I held out my hands and tried to get myself together. “When people are too slick or too nice, I don’t really trust them.” I dropped my hands back down. “Sam’s nice and easy to deal with without any warning bells. That’s all. I like him; he’s my friend.”
Bucky nodded, but said nothing. He fidgeted a bit. Obviously he was still bothered. “Did something happen?” I asked.
Bucky frowned, and lowered his head more so that his hair fell to slightly cover him. “We met once,” he said. “When I was…the Soldier. So we…don’t talk.”
“Ah.” Right, that might make things awkward, even for Sam. “What happened?”
“I destroyed his car and tried to kill him.”
“Yeah, I can see how that would be…not a great first impression,” I said. I was ready to let it go, but then I…couldn’t stop thinking about it. Murder was bad, but Sam was almost unnaturally good sometimes, and he had been way too gung-ho about joining Steve’s retrieval mission to then hold such a major grudge and refuse to speak to Bucky at all. Sam not speaking to someone…something about this wasn’t adding up.
“Hey…” I said slowly, still a bit uncertain. “Did he tell you that he didn’t want to talk to you because of the whole ‘attempted murder slash car destruction’ thing, or did you just decide to never talk to him without finding out if he still held a grudge?”
Bucky stared at me so hard I immediately knew it was the second. I fluttered my eyelashes at him. He rolled his own eyes. “You look stupid doing that,” he grumbled.
“I know,” I said. Smugly, just to be even more irritating about it.
He sighed in disgust. It was so fun being right. “The second,” he admitted. “And I’m not going to. Not yet.”
“Okay,” I said and snuggled my back into the couch.
Bucky stared at me. “Is it?” he asked uncertainly.
“Talking to people is hard even for normal shit,” I said. “I grabbed some food yesterday and when the lady behind the counter told me to enjoy my meal, I replied ‘you too’ without even thinking.” I looked right at him. “She laughed at me. I can never go back there again.”
He had that flat look on his face again. I was starting to really love that look, which probably didn’t bode well for my health, or his opinion of me, but he was bitchier than even Steve and I really couldn’t help how fun that was. “Yeah, those are totally equivalent,” he said.
“Exactly!” I picked up the remote. “Do you wanna watch a movie, or do you wanna keep watching me embarrass myself by being bad at video games?”
He looked thoughtful. “Do…” He paused. Several seconds passed, and then several more, but I waited patiently. I wondered if it was better or worse to keep looking at him, or if I should turn away, but if I turned away would he think I wasn’t interested or dismissing him–
“Do you have anything…peaceful?” he asked.
I rolled that over in my head. “Yeah,” I said and exited back to the system menu. “But you just let me know when you get bored and decide you want to watch demons get murdered in big sprays of gore.”
“Demons, or your character?” he asked.
“Now you’re getting it,” I said proudly, but nonetheless brought up a platformer while I tried to figure out if I could maybe sneak in some Smash Bros. Maybe if Bucky was feeling better before he left I would try, because the thought of Bucky having one over on Steve for pop culture knowledge would annoy the hell out of Steve, and that was very funny to me.
~
Sam: I ask again
Sam: What the HELL did you do
I blinked at my phone and gave it some honest-to-god thought. The last message we’d had was two days previous, about the Captain Falcon thing.
Me: Nothing that I know of?
Me: That convo with you and Tony was the last shenanigan I pulled
I waited for a response. I waited for two whole minutes.
Me: I’m kind of worried now though
Me: What DID I do?
I received an image in reply. A screenshot, slightly elongated, of a text message conversation between Sam and…“Unidentified Number.” I opened it up and zoomed in a little. It looked like the first image was…a gif? Of Captain Falcon doing a stupid little dance–
I immediately scanned the rest of the text, but there really wasn’t much to go on. At the very top there was the tail end of a message bubble from Sam, then the gif, then:
Unidentified: Are you gonna do this when you get the new costume?
[Sam]: WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT????!!!
I furrowed my brows in thought, because why would Sam be texting with an unidentified number who apparently had needed teaching about Captain Falcon–
My eyes shot open wide enough that the air stung and I immediately went back to Sam’s message.
Me: You’re texting with Bucky?????
Sam: He just recently opened up on communication
Sam: It was all going great
Sam: And then he hit me with THAT
Sam: Again: What. Did. You. Do.
I snorted. But before I could even begin to think of an explanation, I got another text.
Steve: Bucky won’t explain to me the joke you told him >:(
At that point, I cracked, and just started laughing.
Me: You are SUCH a troll
Bucky: Knowing you mean that as a compliment is so weird.
Bucky: But thanks.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut (p-in-v & unprotected, oral - f!receiving, fingering, creampie, lots of dirty talk, edging, p-pronouns, light p-inspection, mentions of somno and free use), dom!Bucky, power imbalance, sugar daddy / sugar baby dynamic, age gap (reader in mid-to-late twenties while Bucky’s in his early forties), mentioned illness/death of parents (minor characters), money troubles, i.e., debt, bills, etc., alcohol consumption, one instance of smoking, no mentions of y/n
word count: 31.8k
summary: The arrangement is simple enough: you give him friendship, he gives you a better life. But between the private dinners cozied up in a booth and the charity galas pressed to his side, it’s getting harder for you to hold up your end of the bargain when you’re starting to feel things for your sugar daddy that were not included in the contract…
PARTS:
part one
part two
part three
DRABBLES:
sick days
thanks for reading!🤍 check out more in my masterlist
Series Summary: Mr. Barnes from Room D103 was your fellow kindergarten teacher, hallway neighbor, and the resident crush of the entire sixth-grade class. But, more importantly, he was a giant pain in the butt.
5 times Bucky Barnes drove you crazy, and the 1 time you realized you maybe liked it.
---
kindergarten teacher au || enemies to lovers || 5+1
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
✦Read on A03!✦
✦Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist✦
Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, and sexual content.
Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, avenger!Reader, soulmates, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending.
Mini-Series Summary
Soulmates are the rarest thing in the world. To even know a pair is almost unheard of, let alone to meet your own. Some people hold out hope. You know better. Or you thought you did. Until you met Bucky, and realized the odds you never wanted were leaning in your favor.
✦Author's Note: This is an alternate timeline Avenger's AU! Starts some time after Age of Ultron, but Hulk never went off world. Enjoy!✦
✦Chapter List✦
Chapter 1 - Static
Chapter 2 - Looking
Chapter 3 - Headfirst
Chapter 4 - It's Getting Clear
Chapter 5 - Nosedive
Chapter 6 - The Lonely
Chapter 7 - Take My Heart
Chapter 8 - Ignite
Chapter 9 - I Could Fly
There are a few things that simply aren't understandable in the universe. Things that push the boundaries of what we know, and understand.
Things like how, even through the Winter Soldier programming, Bucky was still able to find you.
Things like how, no matter how hard the world tried, they were never to keep you apart.
Author's Note
I'm going through stuff so you guys get another mini-series. We're starting in 2010s Winter Solider era, and then we'll be going over the years with some canon divergence.
Chapter List
Chapter 1 - The Sins
Chapter 2 - The Limbo
Chapter 3 - The Purgatory
Chapter 4 - The Ascent
Chapter 5 - The Paradise
Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.
COMPLETE.
ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN| ELEVEN | TWELVE | THIRTEEN | FOURTEEN | FIFTEEN| SIXTEEN | SEVENTEEN | EIGHTEEN | NINETEEN | TWENTY | TWENTY-ONE[END]
Summary: Curtis has been working as your bodyguard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?
Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking, explicit language, bad boyfriend, self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. The reader's having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader
Word Count: ~4.5k
Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...
Warnings: Heavy angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism (both external and internal), adult themes, self-coercion, non/dubcon elements (no sex), therapy, trauma, explicit language, the slowest burn I've done yet. I really struggled to warn for this one, so please let me know if I missed anything! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me this time!
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Please don't hate me! 🫣
A huge thanks to @bigtreefest for talking through so much of this with me. The crux of this chapter is something I've been thinking/talking about since the very beginning.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!
As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
He was staring at you, this male omega. A small notebook was poised on his knee, and he balanced a pen between his fingers on top of it. He had a neat, pretty bite mark on his neck. You wondered what sort of alpha he must have. There’d never been any male omegas at either of the compounds you’d lived at. Nor female alphas. Real alphas were male. Real omegas were female. That’s just the way it was.
You didn’t say anything to him. Your eyes were on the clock. You just needed to make it to the end of the hour.
Yona called this omega, David, a therapist and said he was someone you could talk to. Sure. He (or more likely, his alpha) just wanted to get your secrets. They all did. You weren’t sure what exactly he was after, whether it was the compound, or the one you grew up in, or maybe the alpha you were with now. Whichever it was, it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to say anything. Good omegas never revealed their alpha’s business, whether that was your father, Franco, or Curtis.
Curtis. That was the alpha’s name, and you were allowed to use it. You were allowed to do so many things. You could go anywhere in his house that you wanted. You could eat any of his food, whenever you wanted. You could choose what to do with your days. And when you cleaned or helped him cook, he said thank you. And he’d never punished you. Not once in two weeks. He was the best alpha you’d ever met. This was the best place you’d ever been.
So, of course, you’d spent the last week trying to figure out how to stay here. No one had less power than an unbonded omega. Not that you’d ever had much power in Franco’s house, but at least he’d bitten you. At least he’d claimed you as his. That’s what you needed from Curtis to truly become comfortable in his home.
You’d expected it a thousand different times during your first week with him. And when nothing had happened, you started to worry. You didn’t have any frame of reference for an alpha who didn’t take his omega (or really, any omega) immediately. But when you’d finally asked him (after you’d attacked Claude and somehow, someway, you hadn’t been punished), Curtis’s answer had floored you.
He’d told you that he saw you as a person, and that you should get to decide what happened with your body. He wanted it to be your decision, when you were ready, to give yourself to him. You’d never even imagined anything like that. You wondered if this was what respect felt like.
But that begged the question, were you ready? It was all you’d been able to think about for the past week. You weren’t sure. You’d never had to know that about yourself before. But you could make yourself ready, couldn’t you, if it meant you got to stay here with this kind alpha?
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of David flipping the cover shut on his little notebook. “Alright,” he said softly, with a gentle smile you wouldn’t fall for. “That’s our time for today. I understand that it’s going to take some time to build up enough trust for you to feel comfortable sharing your thoughts and feelings with me. There’s no rush on that. But I hope you believe me when I say that I genuinely want to help you through what must be a very difficult transition. I’m sure you have a lot to process, but you don’t have to do it alone. I want this to be a safe space to work through these things together.”
You had no idea what to say to that, barely knew what it meant, so you just stood up when he did and let him guide you out to the hall where Yona was waiting for you. She led you back to the waiting room, where you’d left Curtis. He stood up as soon as he saw you, greeted you with a smile. You couldn’t help but smile back. You were so lucky.
“How’d it go?” Curtis asked once Yona had left the two of you alone, his hand ghosting your back, but never touching, as he guided you back to his truck.
“Good, Curtis,” you said, not exactly sure what he wanted to hear.
But you must have answered right, because he responded with a bright smile. “That’s great. I really hope it’ll be helpful.”
You nodded absently, ready to be back at his house.
That evening found you quietly humming to yourself as you helped Curtis make dinner. It would never stop being strange to you that this alpha really seemed to enjoy his time in the kitchen and preferred to be responsible for mealtime, but you wouldn’t complain. One of your failures as an omega was that you’d always hated cooking. You’d gotten your hand slapped by your mother, and then Martha and Emmy, numerous times for complaining about it. It was just another thing that made being with Curtis so wonderful.
“What are you humming?” he asked as he set down several freshly rinsed tomatoes on the chopping board in front of you.
You hadn’t realized you were doing it loudly enough for him to hear. You ducked your head in embarrassment. “Nothing,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry, Curtis.”
“Hey, nothing to apologize for,” he said gently, going back to check on the pan he had sizzling on the stove. He said that a lot. “You just–” he cleared his throat. “Seems like you’ve been in a pretty good mood the last few days. It’s really nice. I’m so glad you’re starting to feel better.”
You didn’t lift your head or look at him, but you beamed down at the counter as you started chopping the tomatoes. It made him happy when you were happy! You couldn’t wait any longer. You would make yourself ready. It was time to give yourself to him. You’d do it tonight.
The house was quiet. You were standing in the little bedroom he’d given you, frozen. Curtis had gone to bed a few hours before. You should have done it then; you knew that. But the prospect of seeing him face-to-face when you did this was too terrifying. It’d be better, easier, this way. But you’d still spent the last few hours trying to hype yourself up, muster up some bravery.
Not that you had anything to be afraid of. You knew that. If he was kind to you out of bed, then he’d be kind to you in bed. Right? Wouldn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, even if he used you like every alpha you’d ever known used omegas, then it would be worth it for everything else. It had to be. This was the best place you’d ever been. You needed to stay here, and this was how you’d do that. This was what he wanted you to do.
With a deep breath, you lifted your T-shirt over your head. You pushed down your leggings and underwear and stepped out of them. With shaking hands, you folded your clothes neatly and placed them in the hamper. Then you just stood there, staring at your cracked-open door. Do it do it do it. This would be good. This is what omegas were for.
The walk across the hall to his room felt never-ending, even though you knew it was only a few feet. You froze again when your hand clasped his doorknob. But just for a moment. Then you forced yourself to quietly open his door and step into his room.
It was dark, and you couldn’t see much. But there was an overwhelming warmth, and you were immediately engulfed by his scent, which had seeped into every fiber of the room. It didn’t choke you like Franco’s or Wilford’s scent used to. You’d almost say it was comforting. Another sign that this was the right thing to do. Another sign that you shouldn’t be so terrified.
You waited a moment for your eyes to adjust and then carefully made your way to his bed. He slept in the center of the large mattress, on his side, facing the door. You paused at the edge of the bed to look at him. His face was completely relaxed in sleep, peaceful. He seemed smaller, maybe, than when he was awake and filling this house. There was no hint of cruelty here, like Franco had always seemed to have, even in sleep. It would be alright. You could do this.
With one last fortifying breath, you pulled back the covers and crawled onto the bed, very careful not to disturb him. When he didn’t stir, you let yourself go closer, turning around so that your back was to him, on your side just like he was. You were close enough now that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck, slow and steady, still asleep. After a few long moments, one of his arms fell over your hip, and his head dropped to lightly nuzzle into your neck. His beard was rough against your skin. The arm over you moved so that his hand gripped your hip, and he let out a sleepy little hum. You didn’t breathe. It was starting. You braced yourself to be flipped over and taken however he wanted. You were ready. You could do this.
But then– You felt his whole body go stiff behind you. He let out another sleepy noise, but this one sounded confused. And then, suddenly, the warmth of his body was gone, and he was scrambling wildly off the foot of the bed, one of the sheets caught on his leg until he shook it off. He flipped on a lamp and turned to stare at you, eyes blinking in shock. “What the fuck?” he breathed out.
You sat up, forcing yourself to let the covers drop, exposing yourself to him. “Alpha,” you whispered, your eyes deferentially glued to his blue and gray striped comforter.
“What– What the fuck?” he mumbled to himself and then, to you, “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m ready, Alpha,” you said, your head still bowed, trying to force as much confidence as you could into your voice.
“Ready for what?” and it was the panic in his tone that finally had you looking up. He was backed up against his dresser on the opposite side of the room. Both of his hands were on his head, and while his eyes were wide, they weren’t focused on you, seemingly trying to look anywhere else.
You rose up into a kneel, the sheets now pooled around your knees. You wanted to grab for them, to cover yourself as much as you could, but you didn’t. Even as he wouldn’t look at you. “You–” You started, stumbled, and tried again, your voice coming out small, pleading. “You didn’t want to claim me, mate me, until I was ready. I’m ready now, Alpha.”
“Oh my god!” Curtis’s hands moved to cover his face, and he shook his head. “What? I– When di– No, this– This–” He inhaled deeply and turned toward the digital clock on his dresser. It read 2:32. “Oh my god. I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t think–” He finally looked at you, but only your eyes. His gaze wouldn’t move any lower. “Please go back to your room. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
Panic rose up in your throat. It squeezed your chest. What did he mean? What was there to talk about? Why wouldn’t he take you? You crawled forward to the edge of the bed. “No, no, Alpha. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll make it good! I will!”
He held up one hand to stop you, shaking his head and looking away again. “No, stop. I– I need you to go to your room. Please.”
Tears started to gather in your eyes. How was this all falling apart? You needed him to take you so you could be safe here. “Alpha, Alpha, please. I– I want it– I–”
His head whipped back to you and his voice dropped terrifyingly low. “Omega, go to your room. Now.”
And as hard as you tried to resist it, you were powerless against the alpha command. Your legs moved without your permission, taking you off the bed and out of the room. A broken sob escaped your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Curtis drop his head into his hands. You didn’t understand what had just happened. Why didn’t he want you?
The moment you were across the hall and in the room he’d called yours, the door to his room slammed shut, and you heard through the wall a loud, frustrated “Fuck!” It made you shrink into yourself even more.
You stared at his door and then the way yours hung open. You lifted your hand slowly and, after a long beat, hesitantly closed it. Nothing happened. The alpha didn’t come pound on it. He didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want you. So you reached out again and flipped the lock. You let out another sob as you did it.
You pulled the top blanket off the bed and dragged it behind you, moving to the corner of the room. You stopped at the desk and grabbed the friendship bracelet that you’d delicately placed there when you’d first come to this house, the only thing you had in the whole world that was yours. The only thing you had that Grace had given you. You collapsed onto the floor in the corner and wrapped the blanket around you as tightly as you could. Your fingers carefully traced the little ballerina charm on the bracelet. You missed your sister so much. Now more than ever. You’d never felt so alone. What was going to happen to you?
Your head was resting against the wall, eyelids dropped low but not quite closed. You hadn’t slept at all. You’d spent the last however many hours in a strange liminal space, not awake, not asleep. Just there. It was still dark out, but you could tell through the windows that the sky was becoming a little more gray, a little less black. The birds were starting to wake, their calls coming from the trees outside the window. You didn’t want the new day to come.
But it did. A quiet knock startled you out of your stupor. “Hey,” Curtis’s gruff voice carried through the door. “I know it's early, but I'm pretty sure we're both awake. I'm gonna make breakfast, and I'd appreciate it if you came out so we can talk.”
There was a long pause in which neither of you said anything. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t want to face him. Would he force you out of the room if you didn’t respond? Would he command you again? Franco had thrown out alpha commands left and right without much thought. You shouldn’t be so surprised that Curtis might do the same. Letting your guard down was your own fault. You shouldn’t be so upset.
You waited for Curtis to react to your silence, assert his dominance in some way, but after a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, you heard him slowly move down the hall. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but you knew it would be hollow. As much as you wanted to burrow back inside the blanket, stay there forever, you couldn’t. The blanket wouldn’t protect you, nor would this room. Hiding couldn’t change whatever was about to happen to you. So, slowly but surely, you got up. You placed the blanket back on the bed. You put on a pair of leggings and your comfiest sweater. You gave Grace’s ballerina charm one final squeeze, for luck, then gently placed it back on the desk. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable, so you unlocked the door and forced yourself out of the room and down the hall, trying so hard not to drag your feet as you went.
When you got to the kitchen, you expected Curtis to be halfway through making breakfast, but nothing was cooking. There was no food out, or pots and pans or anything. Just Curtis, standing in the middle of the room, his hands braced on the island, his eyes staring down at nothing. He was in rumpled pajamas, his shoulders slumped. You’d never seen him look like this.
You paused several feet away from him, unsure of what to do. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the counter immediately. He sighed with his whole body. “I’m not actually hungry,” he said, his voice low, rough. Tired. “How about you?”
You silently shook your head. You were too nauseous to be hungry. Too afraid. Too sad.
Even though he still wouldn’t look at you, he must have sensed your movement. He raised his head just enough to nod. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Let’s– Let’s sit down.”
He waited for you to move to the table first and take a seat in the chair by the wall. Then once you’d sat, he sat himself in a chair opposite from you, scooted away from the table. Keeping his distance. You curled in on yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, still unsure of what you’d done wrong. Aside from just not being what he wanted. You supposed that was enough.
He cleared his throat roughly. “Uh, yeah. Thank you. We’ll– We’ll talk about that in a minute. But first, I really need to apologize too.” Your head whipped up at that, finally making eye contact with him. His eyes were so sad. “I’m so sorry,” he continued, every word dripping with sincerity, “for using an alpha command on you. I never should have done that. I– It was the middle of the night, and I was very surprised, but that’s no excuse. It wasn’t okay, and I’m very, very sorry that I did it.”
All you could do was stare at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been apologized to before. Definitely not by an alpha. Alphas never apologized. For anything. Certainly not to omegas. And for something as commonplace as an alpha command! If alphas weren’t supposed to use commands, then it wouldn’t be a thing they were able to do. And omegas wouldn’t be weak enough to be susceptible to it. It was just another biological sign that alphas were superior. Once again, Curtis wasn’t making any sense.
He was clearly waiting for a response, but you didn’t know what to do. So you just nodded once, as his words repeated on a loop in your head.
He waited a long beat and when you didn’t say anything, he just nodded to himself. “Alright,” he began slowly, “let's–” He frowned and shook his head, then let out another sigh. “I really need you to explain to me what you were doing last night.”
You shrank back in your chair. You really didn't want to detail your humiliation, your rejection. You just wanted to find out what was going to happen to you now.
But he was staring, his eyes pleading. “Please,” he said. “I just need to understand.”
You took a deep breath and looked away. The only way you could do this was if you didn’t have to look at him. “I–” You tried to start, but the words got caught in your throat. “I thought–” You shook your head. Why was he making you do this? Your eyes started to burn, the telltale sign that tears were on their way. Deep breath. “I– I was showing you I was ready to be claimed, like you wanted. Like you said.”
“Like I said?!” The incredulity in his voice had you looking back at him. His eyebrows were at his hairline, his mouth pursed. “When did I say that?” The question was rushed, urgent.
You let your own confusion show. How could he not remember? “At the center. After Claude.” When that didn’t seem to jog anything, you continued. “You said that you hadn’t touched me yet because it was my body and you wanted it to be my choice. You wanted me to come to you. When I was ready.”
For a very long moment, he just sat there and blinked at you. And then, his eyes got very, very wide. “Oh my god,” he whispered. Then, a little louder, “Oh my god. Holy shit.” He dragged his hands down his face and just sat there for another moment. Then, with a deep breath, he scooted closer to the table. Putting his forearms across the table top, he leaned forward. “Okay,” he said. “I think there are some things that we need to clear up, that, uh, seem to have gotten lost in translation.” He locked eyes with you, and his face softened dramatically. In the gentlest voice you’d ever heard, he said, “Honey, I’m not going to claim you.”
You had no excuse for the way your heart split in two at those words. You already knew that. He’d made it clear that night. But still, hearing it said so definitively… The tears were no longer just a threat. They had begun spilling over your eyelashes onto your cheeks. With a broken little cry, you asked, “Why not?”
Curtis gave you a pained look, his fingers twitching on the table. “Because,” he started, but then stopped. Another sigh. “I will explain it as best as I can,” he said slowly, “but first, can I ask why you want me to claim you?”
You just looked at him, confused. What did he mean? You wanted him to claim you because you were an omega, and omegas needed to be claimed. That– That was just how it worked. And as an alpha, he should know that. Was this another test? Was he asking you to prove that you knew an omega’s place? If it were any other alpha, you’d be sure that that’s what this was. But Curtis… Curtis was kind to you. You’d yet to walk into any of the traps you’d expected from him. Maybe– Maybe, the traps just weren’t there. You took a deep breath, wiped the tears from your eyes, and said, as sure as you could manage, “So I can stay here.”
“Honey, I promise, you can stay here as long as you need. I don’t need to claim you to make that happen.”
That didn’t make sense. This conversation was just leaving you more confused. “Yes, you do. I’m an omega. I need an alpha.” You didn’t understand why he needed you to explain this to him.
You watched some sort of understanding dawn on his face. “Have you ever known an omega without an alpha?” he asked gently.
“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. It was a ridiculous thought.
He hummed quietly to himself. Then, “You have, though. Yona, at the center. You’ve seen her neck. You know she’s unclaimed. She doesn’t have an alpha.”
“Well, then her father’s her alpha,” you growled out, getting frustrated at having to state the obvious. Why was he being so obtuse?
But Curtis just shook his head. “Yona’s an adult. Her alpha parent hasn’t had any legal claim on her since she was eighteen.”
“No–why–” You stuttered. You could feel something crashing down inside your mind that you couldn’t put into words. A panic was rising in your chest that you didn’t understand.
Curtis just continued on, speaking softly. “I’ve spoken to her enough to know that she isn’t looking for an alpha. She prefers being on her own. And that’s just fine. Just because she’s an omega doesn’t automatically mean that she needs an alpha.” Then he caught your eye, making sure he had your attention. “Just because you’re an omega doesn’t mean you need an alpha.”
“What?” you breathed out. That didn’t make sense. That wasn’t how things were. You closed your eyes tightly as the panic spread through your body. “I'm not going to have an alpha?!”
“No,” he said, with a calmness you couldn’t wrap your head around, “not in the way you mean. Not right now. When you mate with someone, if you ever do again, it should be because they make you happy. Not just safe or secure, but happy. It should be a decision that you both make together. That’s why I didn’t claim you last night.
“But just because I’m not your alpha, doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. I want to help you in any way I can. I’m very serious about that. And I promise you that you can stay here as long as you want. No one is going to make you leave until you’re ready.” When he paused, you opened your eyes to find him looking at you with such sadness. “The way you’ve been treated, that’s not how it’s supposed to be. That’s not how it is in most of the world. It’s– You deserve so much better than that.”
It was the sincerity and conviction in his words that finally did it, that finally broke you. You’d spent your whole awful life knowing that there was no use in being sad or hoping for something different, because this was just how things were for omegas. But if that hadn’t been true? If that wasn’t just how things were for omegas? If there was a different, better life out there that you just hadn’t gotten to have because you were so unlucky? You didn’t think that you could even begin to understand what you’d lost. But you felt it. You felt it right in your chest. It was your heart being torn into pieces.
A sob wracked through your body as you let your head fall to your knees. Your whole body shook as you cried. You heard the scrape of Curtis’s chair being pushed back from the table and then felt the warmth of his body as he crouched in front of you.
“Can I–” he started hesitantly. You could barely hear him over the sound of your sobs. “Can I touch you? Can I hold you?”
The “No,” tumbled out of your mouth before you’d even really had a chance to think it. But you didn’t regret it. You were sure that if he touched you now, you’d completely shatter. But you also weren’t afraid of saying no. If everything he’d said was true, then you wouldn’t be punished for this. If he really wanted to help you, then he would let you say no. It felt like the first real choice you’d ever made.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice startlingly small. “That’s fine. But I’m– I’m right here. I’m right here. You aren’t alone.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine!
Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), Steve actually having to deal with the PTSD and depression and anxiety he would so clearly have if he'd been through everything in the MCU, this one really focuses on the depression, patterns of disassociation, pretty troubling self-talk, use of a derogatory term for sex-workers, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, possible slow burn - we'll see. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Oh boy. This one might officially be my angstiest story. I know the competition is stiff, but Steve is really going through it here. Please be sure to read the warnings and take care of yourselves, my friends!
Thanks to @bigtreefest for doing a gut-check on the parts I wasn't sure about and always being a great cheerleader in general.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!
As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
The rhythmic slaps of his feet hitting the pavement were helping drown out all the noise in Steve’s head. He felt the air fill and leave his lungs as he pushed himself forward. His arms pumped at his sides, his hands curled into tight fists. He could go faster. He would. He needed to.
He wasn't sure what exactly had happened. One moment he'd been sitting across from you, the next he was on the floor. A moment later, he was on the street in front of his building, dressed in his running gear.
He’d reacted strongly to the news he was being benched for at least three months; he knew that much. It was embarrassing, losing it like that in front of a complete stranger. He was better than that. Stronger than that. He had no excuse to be that weak anymore.
He pushed his body harder, faster, needing the burn, the ache to be louder than everything else going on in his head. The scenery blurred beside him as he just focused on going further further further. Harder harder harder. He felt the never-ending cycle of pain and healing in his feet, his shins, his quads. The skin cells of his palms trying to grow back as his fingernails bit in. He hadn’t been able to decide if it was a good thing or not that nothing he did to himself ever left any marks.
He stopped short when the asphalt in front of him suddenly disappeared, wrought-iron guard rails standing in his way. Oh. He’d made it to the bay. He hadn’t realized he’d gone that far. He took a breath. Then another. He should turn around. He should go home. That’s what he should do. But he just couldn’t make himself turn around, head in the right direction. He briefly contemplated leaping into the bay, swimming to Staten Island so he could keep going, keep running. But the idea of the icy water engulfing him was too much to bear.
“Holy shit! Is that Cap?!”
He grimaced, and the urge to take his chances in the water grew stronger. But only for a moment. Then he pasted a friendly smile on his face and turned around, waving at the onlookers. He posed for ten pictures before he felt like it wouldn’t be rude to pull away, his skin crawling the whole time, desperate to hide from the attention. He still couldn’t wrap his head around everyone having cameras in their pockets. Wanting to remember every moment like that was terrifying.
After waving goodbye to the growing crowd, there wasn’t really anything else to do but run back to the apartment. He dragged his feet as he turned around. It would be fine. He would be fine. He always was.
Not long after everything, S.H.E.I.L.D. had set him up in an apartment that occupied the entire 2nd floor of a brownstone in BedStuy. Agents lived in the units above and below him, although he wasn’t supposed to know that. He’d thought a few times about telling Fury that he might want to invest in a more subtle form of surveillance, but what would be the point? Nothing he said really mattered. To anyone.
He’d requested it when they first moved him out of HQ, a place in his beloved Brooklyn. But now, as he did his best not to look at the city as he ran past it—the skyscrapers, the neon signs, the national chains—he thought for the thousandth time how foolish that had been. The Brooklyn he loved was gone. And he would never get it back.
Too soon, he was slowing down in front of his stoop. He reminded himself to breathe. And again. And again. It would be fine. It was his home now. It was ridiculous to feel like he was scared of a place. It was just a series of rooms. It couldn’t hurt him. Not much could. Not in a way that mattered, anyway.
He pushed himself into the building, then up the single flight of stairs that brought him to his apartment. One last deep breath gave him the strength to open the door and walk into his home. Or, at least, the place where he lived.
“Oh, thank goodness!”
Your exclamation brought his attention across his open-plan living room to where you were in his small kitchen. All of the cabinets were open, and there was a notebook lying open on the counter with a pen beside it. He quickly walked over to you. “What are you doing?”
“Huh?” you asked, looking around like you were seeing all of it for the first time. “Oh. I’m taking an inventory of your food and making a grocery list.” And then you didn’t pause long enough for him to follow up. “I know we haven’t had a chance to set up guidelines and establish boundaries, but while we’re working together, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t storm out of here without your phone. Especially when you’re in such a vulnerable state.” You took a deep breath. “I was very concerned.”
He looked at you, confused, the tension in your shoulders, the furrow in your brow. You’d changed, he noticed for the first time. You were no longer in the professional attire he’d greeted you in, but now stretchy leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off your shoulder. His gaze settled on your soft skin and the empty space at the juncture of your neck and shoulders where a bite mark would g– His gaze jumped back up to your face. “I wasn’t in a vulnerable state. I was running. For exercise.”
Your lips turned down into a thin line. You held his gaze in a way that made him both want to look away and somehow unable to. “Right,” you finally said with a sigh. “Well, in any case, I’d appreciate it if you brought your phone with you when you go out. Just in case.”
He nodded, mostly to placate you. It wasn’t that he left it on purpose. He just… never thought to bring it, hardly thought of it at all. He wasn’t used to having a phone in his home, let alone his pocket, so the idea of feeling lost without it was completely foreign to him. But everyone looked at him like he had two heads when he tried to explain that, so now he kept it to himself. It was just one of an ever-growing list of things he kept to himself.
But his nod seemed to be enough for you. You let out a sigh of relief and said, “Okay. Thank you.”
He just nodded again. He didn’t know what else to do.
You gave him a long, serious look. It made him want to run again. But he didn’t. “How are you feeling now?” you finally asked.
“Oh, uh.” Embarrassed. Ashamed. Anxious. On fire. Ready to bolt. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”
You hummed in consideration and tilted your head in thought. “You know,” you started, your tone too even, “I’m actually not a big fan of that word. Fine. It’s a cover-up word. I think we can do better, don’t you? While we’re working together, describe our feelings in a different way.”
He swallowed the scoff, just dying to crawl out of his throat. We. Sure. He’d been brought in front of a gaggle of therapists after he’d come out of the ice. They’d said nonsense like that, too. It was all useless. “I honestly don’t know how else to say it,” he said with a shrug.
“Can you try? Today got pretty intense, you must have some feelings about it.”
He sighed. The only thing that made him talk was the way you were looking at him, your face shockingly free of judgment. “I feel silly,” he said quietly, “to have made such a big deal over nothing. This is just the way my life is now. There’s nothing for me to do but accept it.”
You let out another thoughtful hum. “I’m not going to argue any of those points with you for now. But. I do want to say that I will never think you’re silly for having strong feelings about what’s happened to you and the way your life’s turned out. I can promise you that.”
He felt something move inside his chest at that. His fingers drummed against his leg. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Everyone expected him to adjust and move on. But the look on your face was so sincere, so accepting, that all he could do was nod once, and then look away while clearing his throat. He glanced around again at all the open cabinets in his kitchen. “Why are you taking inventory of my kitchen?”
For the briefest moment, you looked sheepish, but it was gone in a flash, replaced by the determination he was already coming to associate with you. “Well,” you said, “I started it to give myself something to do while you were gone, but then I discovered that you don’t have any food, Steve.”
“I have food,” he said, purposely not looking at all of the bare cabinets and shelves. “It’s all in the refrigerator.”
He was surprised when you rolled your eyes. Not because it felt judgmental, but because it was casual. Comfortable. It’d been a long time since someone felt comfortable with him. “Yeah,” you said, “I found the protein shakes in the fridge. That isn’t food, that’s–” you paused to find the right word. When you did, it was dripping with disdain, “sustenance.”
He took a step back, suddenly self-conscious. “I need a lot of calories a day. The protein shakes are just easier.”
You looked at him thoughtfully. “Okay,” you said. “Noted on the calorie intake. And–” you paused as your gaze softened, “I understand things like meals and such feeling too hard, but, Steve, you’re allowed to enjoy things, that’s what makes a good life.”
He swallowed around a lump in his throat, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t—couldn’t—tell you that he was pretty sure that ship had sailed for him. Even if that was the truth.
After a long moment of silence, you spoke again. “Listen, I’m not going to make you get rid of the protein shakes. But I am going to put in a grocery order,” you held up your small notebook, the page filled with your neat handwriting, “just so we both have some other options. And” you added, glancing at the time on your phone, “I think we should order in for dinner. What do you think about some Thai food?”
He cleared his throat as heat flooded his face. “I, uh– I don’t really know what I think about Thai food.” He braced himself for your inevitable reaction. Oh my god, seriously?? Or how have you never had Thai food???
But you didn’t ask either of those questions. You didn’t act appalled or scandalized or even surprised. You just cocked your head to the side and asked, “Do you trust me?”
He just stood and stared at you, his mouth wide open as he tried to find any words that might answer that question, even though he had no idea what that answer would even be.
Before he got any closer to figuring that out, you gave an embarrassed laugh, shaking your head. “Oh my god, why did I ask that? Of course, you don’t yet. It’s only been, what? Three hours since I barged into your house? Sorry. Let me ask this instead: Would you be okay with me ordering a bunch of different dishes, and you can try any of them that look good and see what you like?”
Your phone was already in your hand, swiping across the screen. “Sure,” he said, even as dread filled him. This had happened countless times since he’d woken up in this century. He’d be presented with something new to him that was apparently commonplace now, and then whoever it was (usually Tony) would watch him like a hawk to see how he reacted. To make sure he had the right reaction. It was so much pressure. He hated it.
“Okay,” you said, with an easy smile. “I’ll let you know when it’s almost here.” And then you went back to working on the grocery list.
Surprised at being seemingly dismissed, Steve realized it was probably time for a post-run shower.
After unpacking what looked like an actual mountain of food, you must have caught Steve’s deer-in-the-headlights expression because you quickly offered to make him a plate. You explained each dish to him as you added it to the plate, then handed it over with much less of a to-do than he was expecting. You turned your full attention to your own food and mostly left him alone. It was a relief not to have to put on a show of trying new things. It was almost a new experience to just be able to taste the food and form his own opinions.
But he still felt uncomfortable with you in his home, just eating silently next to you. What would Sarah Rogers have to say about his hosting abilities? “So, uh,” he tried, in between bites, “you said you’ve done this for three other SHIELD agents?”
You nodded as you swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve been called into SHIELD three different times, usually after missions gone wrong. To help the agents at the center of it process what happened and reset. And give them a safe space to do so.”
Steve mulled that over for a moment. He wasn’t sure what exactly there was to process. Bad things happened. The wrong people survived. And everyone ended up alone. What was there to reset? “Do you work exclusively with agents?”
“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head. “The majority of alphas I’ve worked with have been civilians. I’ve had long-term assignments with eight alphas in total, so far. You’re my ninth. I do other short-term work in between. But the long-term assignments are my favorite.” It had to be the exhausting nature of the day he’d had that was the reason he couldn’t hide his shock at that number. You furrowed your brow at him. “What’s so surprising about that?”
“Oh,” he ducked his head, trying to school his expression. “I just– My understanding was that part of the point of all this for you, for omegas, was to find a mate. I thought the long-term ones often ended up that way. I was just surprised you’ve done this so many times and are still…” he trailed off at the look on your face. The only word that came to mind was thunderous.
And that’s all you did for a very long moment, just stare at him silently. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, you said, “The point of all this is to help alphas, even the most bone-headed ones. I do this because I believe that everyone, no matter their designation, deserves to feel safe and happy and have access to the mental health care that will serve them best. So, no, I’m not just doing this as a way to get someone to mark me.” And then you took a large bite of food and chewed it so very angrily. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone do that before.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down. He was fucking everything up, everywhere he went. He never tried to offend, but that was all he seemed to do. And it didn’t help that no one seemed willing to ever give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been immediately branded as old-fashioned upon waking up, and he’d quickly gathered that that was thought to be not just bad, but malicious. But no one bothered to explain things to him without judgment. If given the chance, he would swear not to cross any lines. He just needed to know where the lines were first.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I didn’t mean– the omegas I used to know, they wanted different things, I guess. And maybe I’m not doing a good job of catching up, but I’m trying.”
He could feel your eyes on him for a moment that just stretched on. He didn’t dare look up to see what your face was doing. Then, he heard the air rush from your lungs, and you said, “And I probably reacted too harshly, so I’m sorry for that. There’s just– there’s a lot of cultural baggage around support omegas. Some people call us ‘hookers with advanced degrees,’ or other things that are a lot worse. But I really am just here because I want to help people. Steve, I want to help you.”
He let himself look up at you and found that your anger was completely gone, replaced only by sincerity. He nodded as he moved some food around his plate with his fork.
You let the silence last for a minute, then asked, “So, what’d you think? You like any of the food?”
He took the olive branch for what it was. “It’s good. Different, but good.” He pointed to a noodle dish, “I really liked that one.”
You smiled, and it lit up your whole face. “Pad Thai. That’s a good one. A classic.”
He smiled back at you, and it didn't feel entirely fake.
When it came time for bed, he went through the motions. He changed into sleep pants and a t-shirt. He brushed his teeth. He washed his face. He said goodnight to you and watched you go into the guest room. He even went so far as to sit on his bed for several long minutes. But he didn’t lie down. He couldn’t do that.
If he lay down, then he risked falling asleep. And if he slept, then he was pretty much guaranteed to have nightmares. And after the sort of day he’d had, they were sure to be especially horrific. No. He didn’t need sleep. He’d be fine.
So he sat. And he stared at the wall. And he listened and he waited. The house settled, and everything got quiet. When things had been so quiet that you must have been asleep for several minutes, he moved into the living room as quietly as he could. Not that this room was much better, but it was bigger and he felt less hemmed in. Now all he needed to do was kill time until the sun started to come up. Then he could go for a run, and if you caught him, he could just act like he was an early riser.
But the night stretched on in front of him. He tried to read, but he couldn’t focus. He had a TV, but he never really knew what to do with that, and he didn’t want to risk waking you up. Before, he may have passed the time drawing in his sketchbook. But he couldn’t stomach it now. So he settled in for a long night of staring at the clock.
He must have been so in his own head that he was startled by a noise in the hallway. He looked up to see you walking into the living room, dressed in soft-looking PJs, trailing a blanket he’d just purchased behind you. He gaped at you for a moment. “Oh, uh– I was just–”
You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you said, gently. “We can just sit, if you want.” You settled yourself on his couch before giving him the softest look he’d been on the receiving end of since his mother died. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend– a prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.
Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader
Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense, Reader/OFC (basically POV character) is written as female/bisexual/overweight, bisexual!Steve Rogers, this is a tribute sequel to “Lunch Buddy”
Chapter One: Open Secret – Steve Rogers doesn’t consider ‘being oblivious’ to be a bad trait. His date understands that a little bit better now.
Chapter Two: Boundaries – Testing boundaries is always a learning experience, even when you’re in a relationship and have known each other for a while. Even especially then.
Chapter Three: Crossword – A lazy day in doing puzzles.
Chapter Four: Helloooo Nurse – For when taking care of yourself isn’t enough, it’s nice to have a helping hand.
Chapter Five: Start Stop Slow – Sometimes you just need to take it slow, whether you consciously want to or not.
Chapter Six: Sharing is Caring – Even with Steve incognito, going out to eat can sometimes be an adventure. Still, at least food isn’t the only thing this couple shares.
Chapter Seven: Girls’ Day Out – Natasha just wants to see how things are going, and investigates.
Chapter Eight: One Good Turn – Steve comes home in a bad way, and finds out it isn’t terrible to be taken care of.
Chapter Nine: Friendship Bracelets – Steve has a week of boring meetings. Naturally, he’s all for making things a little more interesting…no matter who it annoys.
Chapter Ten: Comfortable – Steve comes by late one night and you both take comfort in a quiet ritual.
Chapter Eleven: Terms of Endearment – Reasons for why being a couple is difficult #13546: thinking of cute couple nicknames when neither of you are all that cute. Especially when your partner already has a sweet one. Asshole.
Chapter Twelve: Followed – Humans are pretty awful sometimes. Steve is awfully wonderful. That doesn’t fix everything, but it can ease the sting.
Chapter Thirteen: Fan Club – Team Bonding at Steve’s expense…or is it?
Chapter Fourteen: Trust Issues – Steve can generally be trusted to take care of himself. Generally. But even when he’s reckless, there’s always someone there to watch his back.
Chapter Fifteen: Float – Sometimes you need to lean back, relax, and try to keep your head above the water. Having another person involved in your life, though, can make the usual tried-and-true survival methods a little tricky.
Chapter Sixteen: Scavenger Hunt – Steve’s night starts off not so great, but ends well. A good meal can make things better. By that logic, several meals can make things great.
Chapter Seventeen: A For Effort – Steve struggles sometimes. It’s definitely not world-ending, unless cataclysmic laughter counts.
Chapter Eighteen: Stars in Your Eyes – Steve manages to drag his girlfriend along on an ~*~adventure~*~. She just hopes it’s worth leaving the house for.
Chapter Nineteen: Restless – Nightmares are a bitch, and Steve doesn’t know how to ask for help. It’s a recipe for something, all right.
Chapter Twenty: Buck Up – Steve leaves in a mood and comes home ready to talk. A little. But hey, progress is progress.
Chapter Twenty-One: Break Down – Let’s talk about grief, baby~
Chapter Twenty-Two: Bad Day – Steve has a good day. Someone else very much does not.
Chapter Twenty-Three: God Bless America – Steve makes someone else’s day. And they make his.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Valentine’s Day – Valentine’s Day is special. Probably moreso when you actually…remember it.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Most Girls – Steve is very attractive. Staking a claim, though, is too complicated. What to do…
Chapter Twenty-Six: Trip Trip – A trip to DC is made, and something new is realized.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Steve Rogers and the Terrible, No Good…Sort of Okay Day – Steve has a Bad Day. It’s nice to have a partner who’s willing to make it better.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Celebration of Life – Steve gets an early birthday present, and reflects on good things past and present.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Cold and Dark – Winter is stupid.
Chapter Thirty: Fight Fight Fight – All couples have their problems. Some of them are just a little stranger than others– the problems, that is. …And the couple.
Chapter Thirty-One: Under Cover – Hypothetical plans, nachos, and a nice night in with victims friends.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Domestic Dorks – A couple of dorks have a relaxing day. …Or try to, at least.
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Homemaking Sort – It’s not too hard to make a house a home. As long as you don’t overthink it.
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Mission – Steve goes on a routine mission and ends up confronting the Winter Soldier. It doesn’t end well.
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Mission Part 2 – In the wake of the Winter Soldier’s attack and reveal, an important conversation is had, and Steve and his partner decide what they want going forward.
Chapter Thirty-Six: Wake-Up Call – Steve needs to go for a walk, and vent. Sometimes, love means waking up at five am– because anything less would have to wait until at least seven.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Stupidity – Sitting still is a unique challenge for Steve. Unfortunately, his patience gets tested in the dumbest of ways.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Leaving-for-Now Song – It’s not forever. It’s probably not even for very long, all told. But it will be a change.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Long Distance – Steve and his partner find enrichment in two very different ways. And, in Steve’s case, inflict it.
Chapter Forty: Awkward Pauses – Sitting in silence in person is so much less awkward than sitting in silence on the phone. What is a self-professed miser to do?
Chapter Forty-One: Clubbed – It isn’t too surprising that Tony and Steve haven’t been getting along great. It is slightly surprising to go out for the night and bump into Tony drinking about it. It is quite surprising to find out why.
Chapter Forty-Two: Hospital Part 1 – Steve being in a bad way is, sadly, not an uncommon occurrence. Unfortunately, the day only gets worse from there.
Chapter Forty-Three: Hospital Part 2 – The incident at the hospital left a mark that can’t be ignored, but healing can be worked for. And will be, if Steve has anything to say about it.
Chapter Forty-Four: Custody – Truces and arrangements are made, and the future looks bright for Steve, even with two prickly partners. They love him, though, and that’s really all that matters.
Summary: Comfortable in your easy life in the city, when your uncle Charles passed away, you didn’t think twice about what you were gonna do with the farm he left you in his will. There’s no way you’d waste your time on it, right? That’s what you thought. But destiny (and the handsome farmer who runs it) have a different idea.
Feedback is very welcome, reblogs are golden. I don't allow my work to be copied or reposted on other websites. Don't steal other people stuff!!! MINORS DNI - DO NOT read unless you're 18+ thank you!
Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Reader x Andy Barber
Summary: The aftermath of the Thrombey’s is more than some can take, and maybe too much for others.
Warnings: angst, threeway relationship
Like I’m Gonna Lose You Masterlist
W/C: 5,188
A/N: welp almost two years later…and here it is. I don’t know why this spoke to me all of a sudden but it did. I sincerely hope anyone reading this enjoys!
You heard Andy huff from the couch as you tip-toed down the hall. He knew you were there, but wasn’t acknowledging you. You stood at the entrance of the living room and gave Andy a questioning look. At his subtle head shake, you shrugged and continued on your mission to the kitchen.
Ransom had cried himself to sleep on Andy’s chest. The two men were cuddled close on the couch. Like they were made to be there together.
Perfect.
You knew that the family dinner situation wasn’t about you, it was about Ransom. But you couldn’t help the sad lonely feeling you had. Selfishly there was part of you that wishes Ransom had wanted your comfort, your touch. Not Andy’s.
You made a quick decision, grabbing your purse and keys. You silently left Ransom’s place.
It was a strange feeling like the place you had been most at home at, other than your own place. It now felt like you were a guest. Unwanted, certainly unneeded.
You mindlessly drove back to your apartment, you didn’t even think. Once you were back inside you looked the place over. You needed to clean, and throw away some old things. You nodded along to your thoughts, this would ease the ache in your chest.
Something had to.
You put on your favourite playlist and got to work.
***
It was several hours later when you realized what had happened. You were jealous. And not a little bit. It was almost a hateful, spiteful jealousy that was eating at you. You immediately felt terrible.
How could you be so selfish as to completely abandon Ransom when he was his most vulnerable? You just left, like it was nothing.
You sighed and checked your phone - dead. You didn’t bring your charger back either. You wandered into your bedroom and found an old one and plugged it in. While you let it get some power you went through your collection of shower bombs to see which one would be best. You picked up the lavender and just inhaled the soothing scent.
You cranked the heat on the shower and tossed the scent bomb in. Leaving the bathroom you made a bee-line for your bedroom before stopping. You didn’t want to see Andy’s judgement when he realized you’d left. Ransom’s sadness would probably kill you. No shower first, deal with your mess later.
You groaned as the scalding water hit the tense muscles of your back. The heat was washing away your sins. You scrubbed, probably harder than necessary, as waves of guilt came crashing over you. The stronger the feeling, the harder you scrubbed. You weren’t sure how long you were in there before your brain went into auto pilot and finished your routine.
When you finally turned the water off and wrapped your hair and body each with a towel, you felt raw in a way you hadn’t since…well you couldn’t think about that now. Your skin ached and you knew you had been too aggressive, but couldn’t find it within yourself to care.
Suddenly a pounding at your door. They must have been at it for a while, because you could hear voices behind it. As quietly as you could you made your way to the door, looking through the peephole you saw them: Ransom and Andy. They both looked worried.
You debated for a moment, before sighing and opening the door.
”Where the hell have you been?”
”Are you okay?!”
The first from Ransom, the second from Andy. You didn’t respond, just let them in and closed the door behind you. Both men were staring at you, waiting for what you would say, how you would explain your actions. You still hadn’t found your voice. Feeling like it had been stolen from you, that someone or something was holding it hostage.
So you shrugged and turned towards your room to put some clothes on. The two men behind you shared a worried look and were hot on your heels.
Andy grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around. “Hey, sweetheart. You need to talk to us. Now.”
You looked up at Andy. Your eyes searched his eyes for something, he wasn’t sure what, and if you were honest neither were you. You sighed as whatever you were hoping to see was absent from his face. You shrugged out of his grip and pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a comfy sweater.
“I had to leave.” It was all you could make yourself say. You couldn’t tell them the truth, not now. Not after you had pushed.
”Listen Kitten, I know I messed up last night. I should have told them the truth before you both showed up. I…change when I’m around them.” Ransom’s apology drew your eyes to him. He looked contrite, but mostly scared. Scared of what, you weren’t sure.
“I know Ransom.” It’s like your brain could only get three words out at a time. You shook your head and sat cross legged on your bed. You played with some frays in your comforter as you spoke. Needed to get a new one once your next pay came through. “But that’s not why I left.”
The tension in the room rose, and both men were holding their breath, not sure what you were about to say.
”I was jealous.” You couldn’t look them in the eye. You heard one of them let out a breath, and the other chuckle, you weren’t sure which.
Andy’s hand found yours as he kneeled in front of you. “Oh sweetheart, you know that wasn’t about you.”
You yanked your hands away from Andy shocking him. When your eyes finally met his there was a heat behind your own that made him withdraw.
“I’m not a child Andy! I’m aware that the world does not revolve around me.” You pushed past both men and left the room. Swearing under your breath as both men followed you to the kitchen.
You stopped abruptly at the entrance and turned to them. “I think you should both leave.”
Ransom swooped in now, “Kitten stop. We need to know what’s going on. Just tell us and then if you want to be alone after we’ll listen, we’ll go. But first we need answers.”
He reached for you, but you brushed past him again back to the living room. You pointed to the couch indicating that you wanted them both to sit. Ransom flopped into the couch first, looking like someone had kicked his dog then stolen it from him. Meanwhile Andy didn’t take his eyes off of you. Staring at you like a wild animal he had to be careful of.
You paced, you need to tell them. You knew you did, but you weren’t sure how or what to say. “I was jealous.” It wasn’t enough, they both looked confused. “Not that you weren’t paying attention to me, not that I wasn’t involved. I was jealous of…both of you. How you are together.”
The air was still at your confession. But now that you started words were tumbling out of you.
”I looked at you both, I saw you both and it hit me. I didn’t need to be there. There’s a reason you never hear of this type of thing working out. Relationships like this don’t work because someone always feels…” You struggled to find the words to explain how you felt. Alone. Awkward. “Like they weren’t meant to be there.”
You brought your gaze to Ransom first. His face crumpled, then you saw flashes of sadness, anger, guilt, and then nothing. The mask that had slid onto him so easily the night before, was there for you now. Good, you thought to yourself. Easier to make a clean break then to let it drag on.
When you turned to Andy he was scowling. You could see his brain working a mile a minute. He was trying to find the answer, but sadly you didn’t think there was one, not to this.
“So you want to end this?” Ransom’s words were cold, you were a stranger to him now. His tone and expression confirmed that this was what you should do. You upended both their lives, for what? A fantasy. That was it, nothing more.
Andy was shaking his head, but you ignored him for now.
You walked to Ransom and kneeled in front of him. “No, I don’t.” You eased your hands up his legs, across his chest and landed on his shoulders. “I don’t know what I want. No, that’s not true. I don’t want any of us to feel like this. But I don’t know what to do.”
Tears had started to gather in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. This was not the time, you could cry later.
“I just want to feel my feelings. Understand what they are, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want this to end or leave you both, but…”
”You felt alone.” Andy’s voice pierced through you in a way you didn’t expect. “You felt alone, so you needed to be alone.”
It wasn’t a question but you nodded your head as you turned to him. Withdrawing from Ransom and wrapping your arms around yourself, like a shield.
”I’m sorry Sweetheart.” And suddenly he was there, pulling you into his chest. You sucked in a breath and just let Andy’s steady heartbeat ground you for a moment. Just one moment of weakness.
“I need to take a walk.” With that Ransom was gone. The door slammed behind him causing you to jump and whimper.
“I promise Andy. I swear I know Ransom’s hurting about yesterday…his family. I don’t want to hurt him more.” The tears streamed down your face as you pleaded with him. Hoping he would understand.
Andy looked torn. You were messing this up. Badly. This isn’t what you wanted. What was the point of all this? Why had you done this?
You wiped your eyes and stood. Giving yourself a shake before putting on your own mask. “Let me drive you back to Ransom’s, you can text him that you’re there.”
Andy stood stiffly for a moment before nodding his assent. He seemed disappointed in you. He followed you down to the car, and spent the entire ride on his phone, furiously texting. You assumed informing Ransom of the change. When you pulled up to Ransom’s home you saw his beemer parked haphazardly in the drive next to Andy’s Lexus. Andy reached to you from the passenger seat grabbing your hand firmly in his before quietly saying what you could tell he had been trying to put together the entire ride here. “He needs you, you know? We both do.”
He kissed the back of your hand and gave it a squeeze before getting out of the car. If your tears fell as you drove home, you ignored them. It felt selfish now, this whole day. This whole…thing.
****
You wallowed at your apartment for the next few days, calling into work and using up all of your sick time. By Thursday you were ready to face the world. You went back to work and lied about coming down with that cold that’s going around. You made small talk with the girls at the office about the latest drama on some reality show. You jumped into a project that would have intimidated you before. Anything but focusing on what you had done.
You thought about reaching out to the boys, but hadn’t been able to bring yourself to even open the group chat. You hadn’t gone back after dropping Andy off. Had done nothing but think of them since you pulled away from the driveway.
You glanced at the clock on your computer and saw your shift had been done an hour ago and you were the only one left in the office. You went around closing doors and turning off lights before locking the door behind you as you left. Spring was starting to bloom in the air, with the days getting longer. So you decided to stop at the cafe on your way home, a baked good is just what you needed today. Maybe a cinnamon roll, or a danish!
You stopped short as you walked in. Andy was sitting near the window, typing away on his laptop. He looked stressed. His tie was loosened and his brows were knitted together tightly. Without thinking you crossed the small shop to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.”
He startled at your presence, looking up at you from his seat a smile spread across his face. “Sweetheart. You’re here.” He breathed out the words. His eyes took all of you in, and you shifted uncomfortably. Acutely aware of your swollen eyes, your windblown hair.
“You look stressed.” It was a statement but Andy took it as a question.
”I am, big case coming up. Could lead to me getting a big promotion. I can’t work on it at home, you know what Ransom’s like.” You didn’t. Not really. But nodded along. “Come home.” He wasn’t begging, “Just for dinner tonight, Ransom’s cooking.”
You took him in, he looked different. Less confident. You took that from him. You knew that. Why had you been so selfish? Maybe now you could fix it. “Okay.”
At your agreement, Andy quickly packed away his laptop and straightened his tie. You motioned for him to wait a minute as you went to the counter. You were still getting your treat, even if you weren’t sure you’d enjoy it anymore. You ended up ordering an assortment to bring. A peace offering.
Once you were back to Andy you both agreed to drive separately. If Andy happened to be following you, you put it down to where he parked. Not that he was trying to make sure you went to Ransom’s.
Pulling back into Ransom’s drive, your heart hurt. You took deep breaths and gripped your steering wheel tight. You didn’t know what you were walking into, but you hoped to clear some air tonight. You needed to talk to them, establish rules, boundaries. Something. If that couldn’t happen, then you knew you needed to remove yourself.
Andy was patiently waiting for you at the front door when you finally dragged yourself out of the car. He tucked you under his arm, but something felt wrong. When you entered the house you knew immediately what it was. It felt wrong to be close to Andy without Ransom now. You were sure it would have been the same if it had been Ransom greeting you at the door instead.
Maybe you were broken.
The thought didn’t fill you with any comfort.
Ransom was banging around the kitchen, and you awkwardly stood in the entrance, waiting for Andy to direct you where to go. His face looked a little sad. He placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the kitchen.
From the living room he called out, “Hey Ran, look who I brought home.” Ransom’s head shot up from staring at the cutting board. There was a swirl of emotions on his face, each one disappearing before you could put a name to it, before his mask slid back into place.
”I don’t know that I’ve prepped enough.” He refused to look at you, and immediately went back to his dicing.
Andy rolled his eyes, and moved around the island to Ransom. Coming up behind him he whispered in his ear, and Ransom’s eyes took you in. It was like he was looking through you, deep inside to where the things you kept most hidden were allowed to run free. You dropped your peace offering on the counter and instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. Taking an involuntary step back.
“I…I wanted to reach out.” Your voice was thick, and you knew you were going to cry a lot tonight, no matter what happened. “I kept trying, and then I felt so angry at myself, for how I…” You trailed off. This was a bad idea, you weren’t ready yet.
“I miss you.” It was so quiet you almost missed it. Ransom’s admission. When you looked back into his eyes, he looked so small, vulnerable.
You pushed yourself to move and before you knew it you were pulling Ransom into your chest. You felt him inhale deeply, his arms circling you and gripping tight. “How’d you get me in this deep, this quick Kitten?” It wasn’t really a question, but you let out a watery laugh.
”All part of my charisma, I suppose.” You sighed as Andy wrapped you both up from behind. This was right. This was what you needed. You gripped Ransom’s face between both of your hands, “I’m so sorry Ran. Please believe me, I don’t know what came over me, but I never, ever, wanted to hurt you. Please forgive me.”
He blinked a few times, his eyes searching yours the same way you had searched Andy’s nearly a week ago now. You tried to convey all your guilt, remorse, sadness through your gaze, praying to a God you weren’t even sure existed that he would understand. After a few moments he nodded and sank back into both yours and Andy’s arms.
Andy pulled at you both to lead you away from the kitchen, into the living room. You clung to Ransom, not wanting to lose the connection you both had been missing so much. Ransom sank into the couch on the right hand side, Andy stiffly sat at the left. They left space for you in the middle. You hesitated for a moment before claiming the seat.
Andy spoke first “Should we just jump in? Or do you both want to eat first?”
Ransom shrugged, although judging by the tension in his shoulders, you knew he wanted this to go quickly. “Let’s talk, if that’s okay with you both?”
Andy smiled and turned so he was facing you fully on the couch. You sat back and exhaled, gathering your thoughts. “I’m sorry for how I handled things last week. I was…weak and selfish and…childish.” You pulled at your fingers and waited for one of them to speak.
”I think we all kind of settled into this and just assumed we were all on the same page. But we aren’t, are we Sweetheart?” Andy’s tone was low, but not accusatory.
You gulped and nodded. “I was so caught up in our bubble here. And we’d always done everything together, or at least I thought we did.” You felt a single tear escape and quickly tried to rub it away before they could see. Great, being childish…again.
Ransom’s hand cupping your cheek stopped your thoughts. “Kitten, it's okay to be sad and it’s okay to show us how you feel.” His eyes were pleading.
“I just-I don’t know what to do. I want us to all be okay.” You sucked in a breath to hold your tears back.
“Let’s start small.” Andy’s low rumble grounded you. You grasped at his hand and held it in a vice grip. “Do you want us all to sleep here, or should we all have our own places?”
”I’m keeping my apartment.” Ransom sucked in a breath at your proclamation. “It’s been two weeks, this is new. It doesn’t mean I won’t stay here.” You cupped his cheek and gave him a watery smile. He nuzzled your hand and kissed your palm. You loved the natural intimacy that had been there from the moment you met Ransom.
“Can we just start with that for now?” You looked between them both. At both their nods you exhaled the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
Sitting in the silence, you expected it to feel…tense or maybe awkward. Instead you found your senses heightening. You could smell the fresh veggies Ransom had previously been dicing, hear the quiet ticking from the Grandfather clock that sat at the far side of the hall. It felt comforting in a way you never really had before.
You weren’t sure how long you all sat there, sharing the quiet intimacy of just being together, but it felt like all too soon that Andy was standing. At yours and Ransom’s questioning looks he had the decency to look bashful. “Gotta use the washroom. When I come back, should we eat? I can order something.”
Ransom nodded, “yeah I’m starved. But I’ll order, last time you chose it was practically inedible.”
Andy rolled his eyes before turning to leave the room.
You gave a small laugh, “What did Andy try to feed you that was so inedible?”
“McDonalds.” Ransom huffed as you dissolved into giggles. He watched the pureness of your joy, a smile spreading across his face.
He pulled his phone out to order from his favourite Italian place. You stretched before pulling yourself off the couch to go back to your favourite place, the floor to ceiling windows. Even at night the view was incredible. Something you’d never see from the city. You traced the outlines of each tree, each branch with your eyes marvelling at how picturesque the landscape truly was.
You felt Ransom behind you and he hesitated a moment before wrapping himself around you. You had a lot of making up to do. You knew that. This was still so new and you hadn’t yet learned each other's love languages. That wasn’t true. You knew Ransom’s: it was touch. The man was so touch starved it was practically a neon sign, if you were paying attention at least.
“What can I do Ransom?” You whispered to the view in front of view. He grunted questioningly into your shoulder. You turned in his arms, and framed his face with your hands. “I want to show you that I’m in, I’m here. Tell me what you need from me to show you that.”
He shrugged, and then smirked at you, “Oh Kitten, you don’t even want to know all the ways you’re gonna make this up to me.” He purred the words out and you found yourself heating up immediately.
“Wait. Where’s Andy? He’s been gone for a while.” You looked around the room concerned.
Ransom sighed, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “He’s been working on some case. But of course he won’t tell me anything about it. And he does this, just like gets an idea and disappears for hours. It’s driving me nuts.”
You nodded, you could see the distance that had formed between the three of you. You could take all the blame, but you had a feeling there was more to it than that. “You think he’s hiding something?”
Ransom shrugged, “Why don’t you see if you can pull him out of it?”
You nodded and slowly made your way down to the office. It was just Ransom’s before, but as you stepped in you saw the impression of Andy almost everywhere. He was sat behind the large oak desk squinting at his computer screen. There was a glass of amber liquid in a glass sitting to his left. You stood in the doorway studying him for a moment. If he had noticed your presence, he was doing a great job of ignoring you. If not, this case was much bigger than you had originally thought.
Distantly, you heard Ransom cleaning up the kitchen. It was enough to shake you out of your reverie. You knocked lightly on the door. “Man I must have been gone longer than I thought for Ransom to totally redo the bathroom to this.”
You gave a small smile at your own joke, but the mirth quickly faded at Andy’s strained smile. You softly entered the room, searching the contents for a way to connect with Andy, but nothing sparked. Instead you made your way around the desk and stood behind him. You reached out and felt him stiffen as you massaged your hands into his tense shoulders. You chose to ignore his huff, and lack of relaxation.
”What’s up Andy? Is it really a case? Or is there something else going on?” You kept your voice low and started to work at a stubborn knot in his right shoulder.
Andy took a moment before answering you, he picked up his drink and swilled it around before shooting the remaining amount back. “It’s nothing, just you know, wanted to give you two some space.”
You nodded shortly. “But why didn’t you come back?”
He abruptly stood up and started pacing around to the other side of the desk. He looked at you, hands on his hips. He looked hurt, and angry. “Why haven’t you apologized to me?”
You sucked in a breath, your hand going to your chest. Like a defence.
”You know at first, I kind of got it. I left Laurie, moved in here. I changed things. Fine. I’ll accept that. But you,” He had lifted his right hand, his finger pointing at you accusingly. “You just left. No word, no ‘had to run home for a bit’ just gone.”
He had started pacing again. You thought about trying to slow his words, but a part of you knew he needed to get this out. And maybe you needed to hear it.
”And then, we show up. We apologize. And you just…what? Feel like we don’t matter?”
You made a distressed noise at that. You weren’t sure when but your arms had wrapped around you again.
“And now, here you are putting yourself out there, ready to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs, to make it better with him. Which yes, he deserves. We’ve brought him this…what did you call it? ‘Throuple’” He sneered your silly question back at you, and it hurt. The mocking, The truth of it all. “I’m starting to think, part of this, was to get back at me.”
”What? Andy, why would I do that?” Now you were confused. Get back at him?
“For…for when you told me you love me.” He finally stopped pacing and looked at you. Your face was twisted, into shame, guilt, and confusion most of all.
”Andy,” You hummed as you rounded the desk and reached for him. “This, what happened. It was never about that. I’m…” You trailed off unsure of how much you wanted to reveal to Andy without Ransom present.
You stroked his beard, loving the rough feeling of the hair under your finger tips. Your eyes traced every inch of his face. His plump lips almost pouting at you, high cheek bones strongly defined. His strong nose, and watery eyes that had a fire in them as well.
You stepped into his space more and wrapped your other arm around his neck. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. You’re our rock, strong, in control. And I think I just took for granted you understood.” You angled his head down so you could touch your forehead to his. “Please let me make this up to you.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist, and moved to kiss your forehead. “Thank you Sweetheart.”
The doorbell echoed through the house and the two of you made your way to the kitchen to help Ransom unpack the food. The rest of the evening passed with a down mood. Sure you had apologized to both of them, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was a shift. The initial spark of heat between the three of you had dulled.
You perched yourself cross legged on the floor as they sat on the couch. You were so full and drowsy from the pasta Ransom had ordered for you. You watched them both, there was a distance that had grown in your absence. You hummed and stood to clear the dishes and pack up the leftover food. Ransom made to help, but you waved him away.
It was nice in Ransom’s kitchen, so much bigger than your own. You hummed that new song you heard on the radio on the way to work this morning, it had been stuck in your head all day. You heard the murmur of voices from the living room over your own humming. At least they seemed to be speaking.
You dried your hands on the softest kitchen towel you had ever touched and smiled at Ransom’s taste. You had to figure out next steps. Something you could all agree on, that would keep everyone happiest. No, that wouldn’t work. That’s part of what had gotten you all in trouble before.
You had to decide something you could do, and actually follow through on. Maybe just short commitments for now.
You walked back into the living room, playing with your fingers once again. “So I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” Ransom mumbled and Andy quickly elbowed him in the side. Both men smiled softly at each other then directed their warmth to you.
“What’s on your mind Sweetheart?” Andy’s voice was smooth as honey.
“I…I think I’m gonna go home tonight.” At your proclamation both their faces fell. “But! But! I promise to come back right after work tomorrow. And if you’ll have me…I’d like to stay this weekend.”
Ransom looked sour, but nodded his head, “the doors open if you change your mind.” He stated hopefully.
You gave a small smile and reached for them both. The three of you twined together in a way that left you wondering if you could actually leave for the night. You weren’t sure how long you all stood there together, but it felt like an eternity and no time at all, all at once.
It was Andy who pulled you all apart. “Then let’s get you ready to go home. You good to drive?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You smiled and kissed both of them on the cheek before putting your jacket back on. They stood in the doorway as you started your car.
***
Ransom was annoyed. He’d spent the better part of the day, a day he was supposed to be writing staring at the clock. He couldn’t focus, too worried if you were going to show up after work. You had told him, no promised, you would come. He just wasn’t sure he could believe that anymore.
He groaned and made himself another coffee, this much caffeine probably wasn’t good for him, but whatever he needed to do something with his hands. If Andy was home at least he could bother him, maybe convince him to have a little fun while they both waited for you.
Just as the coffee finished brewing he heard tires come up the driveway. He didn’t want to be too eager, so played it cool while slowly fixing his coffee. Besides, it could be Andy.
The front door quietly opened and he heard a jacket being hung up and boots being kicked off. He still couldn’t gather who it was from sound alone. Time to face the music.
“I told you I’d come.” You smiled warmly at Ransom.
He pulled you into his arms and held you tight. Ransom felt the tension in his chest clear. This was much better.
Warnings: fluff, sexual content, allusions to violence
W/C: 12k
The Other Side of Tomorrow Masterlist
A/N: soooo…this was a loooong time coming! This part took on such a life of its own, and I am so deeply proud of it. A special thanks to @krirebr for being sooo patient with me, and beta reading for me. I really hope you guys can see the vision of where this is going and love this as much as I enjoyed writing. As always, reblogs, comments, asks are all appreciated!
“So everything is finalized then? No more going back and forth with the lawyers?” Your mother picked at the throw blanket tossed haphazardly over the back of your sofa.
You sighed as you looked around the room checking for any items you should pack. “Yes, it’s all done now. I’ll tell you more details when I get back, but the car will be here soon…” you trailed off. You just wanted to soak in this moment. The joy of your win. The weight of not knowing where you going to find the money for rent, food, clothes lifted.
“I know, I know. I’m just curious as to why you switched lawyers when you almost had it settled.” Your mother inspected your response shrewdly. The first thing she had mentioned upon entering your apartment was the change in your attitude.
You glanced up at her as you stuffed an extra charging cable in your carry on. “Honestly, I almost didn’t. But Andy promised to get me everything I asked for. Everything Mom. The alimony, the child support, the custody. And to top it all off he delivered in less than 24 hours.”
You crossed the room and placed your hands on your Mom’s shoulders. “Everything is in place. I’m happy. Please be happy for me.” She searched your gaze, and slowly a small smile spread across her face.
“Thank God. I always hated that man.”
“Mom!” You squawked. You had always known she never liked your ex, but she had never mentioned it, or even been anything other than welcoming to him.
“Listen, you'll be good to pick up James after daycare today?” There it was.. The guilt of abandoning your child. Yes it was for work, but somehow, traveling to a foreign country with your boss didn’t feel like work.
Your mom laughed, and shooed you away as your phone began to ring. Lloyd’s name flashing across the screen. You answered right away, knowing how much of a stickler he was for being on time.
“Morning Sourpuss, be downstairs in ten, if you’re not there you’re finding your own way to the airport.” His voice was rough, like he had been woken up not that long ago. He hung up before you could respond. That was more like the Lloyd you knew.
You hugged your mother and threw your jacket on, knowing Lloyd was serious about his threat. You’d be lucky if he actually stopped the car and didn’t just do a drive by. She helped you down the stairs with your luggage and stood outside with you. You enjoyed the moment of peace, before the chaos that was Lloyd arrived.
You both stood silently, waiting for Lloyd’s car to arrive. Having never gone onsite for an OP before, your nerves were starting to get to you. You felt completely unprepared for this. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you saw a black SUV round the corner. You hugged your mother tightly, soaking in her warmth and scent. “Don’t worry dear, nothing will happen while you’re gone.” Like always she knew exactly what you needed to hear in that moment. “Call when you can so I know you’re safe.”
You pulled away and nodded, unshed tears in your eyes. As the SUV rolled to a stop a man you didn’t recognize stepped out of the front passenger seat and grabbed your luggage. He gritted out a dark “let’s go” which had your mother squeezing your hand, before you gave her a strong smile and walked towards the rear passenger door. Before you could pull the handle, the door opened from the inside. “Come on Sourpuss, we don’t wanna miss our flight.” Lloyd extended a kind smile to your mother, before offering his hand to help you climb into the massive vehicle.
You tossed a short “bye” over your shoulder, before the unknown man who took your luggage was closing the door behind you. You could barely contain your shock to see Lloyd riding with you. You heard Lloyd conversing with the driver and other passenger, but found yourself completely distracted by him. He wasn’t dressed usually for Lloyd, but with this shift in your relationship you found yourself appreciating his taste more. He wore a white polo shirt, drawn tightly across his chest and arms. He matched that with brown khakis that made his legs go on for days, with of course his favourite brown loafers. It was the buzz of the divider between the front and back seat that finally shook you from your ogling.
You brought your eyes up to Lloyd’s face to see him smirking at you, “See something you like Sourpuss?” Heat gathered in your face at his words, embarrassed at having been caught.
Before you could stutter out a response Lloyd was pulling you to straddle his lap. He crashed his lips against yours, his hands gripping your waist tightly. It was his tongue brushing along the seam of your lips that had you finally responding. You gripped one of his shoulders in each of your hands and ground down against him, pulling a throaty groan from his lips.
He pulled back, only to rest his forehead against yours. “Did ya miss me?”
You threw your head back and laughed. “Do we even have time for this before the airport?” In contrast to your statement you continued to grind yourself into his swiftly filling cock.
Lloyd only smirked at you before tracing his fingers from your waist, across your ribs and up to cup your neck. “We don’t. We’re going to the private air strip. But you just looked so good this morning Sourpuss, I couldn’t help myself I guess.”
You whined at his words, and pouted down at him. His only response was to place a sweet kiss on your lips and a look. You had seen that look in other men before - it was a promise. Later.
You awkwardly climbed back to your seat, and pulled the tablet you had been assigned in the meeting the previous day from your bag. You could feel Lloyd watching you as you went down the list of items you had prepared for yourself. You had everything and yet-
“Exciting isn’t it?” You could hear his smirk without looking up from your tablet.
“Not exactly the word I’d use, but sure ‘exciting’ let’s go with that.” You heard Lloyd snort at your response.
”C’mon, loosen up Sourpuss. This is a big step for you, could lead to any number of things.” You weren’t sure if Lloyd had intended the double meaning in his words, but didn’t have time to think on it more. With a lurch the SUV had come to a stop. You were here.
You packed your tablet back into your bag, and made to get out. Before you could Lloyd pulled you into another fiery kiss, his big hands holding onto the back of your neck. A small smile was all you had time for before the man who had been sitting up front was pulling the car’s door open.
You flattened your hair and slung your bag over your shoulder. Your nerves were starting to get to you. You stood on the tarmac, staring at the private plane. You felt Lloyd’s hand graze your lower back. Is he trying to help me? You didn’t have time to worry about it before his palm was pressed firmly into your lower back. Move.
He gave you a look before planting his sunglasses on his nose and strutting ahead of you to the plane. The man from before had already handed off your bags to the crew. You climbed up the steps after Lloyd, feeling with each step that you were very much not qualified to be there.
There were several people already on board when you made it through the door. You recognized the faces from your meeting yesterday, although weren’t overly familiar with any of them. You were also sure they all were well aware of your bosses new found interest in you. From the back of the plane a woman huffed, “You know Lloyd, this is your OP, you could at least have the decency to show up on time.”
”Eat shit Suzanne.” He winked at her before settling himself in his seat. He looked sour at this new woman’s appearance. You had never seen her before, she looked polished, professional, put together. All the things you wanted to be, but didn’t yet feel. Lloyd pointed to the seat across the aisle from him. You nodded and put your bag in the seat next to you. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and smiled softly at the picture from your mom. Your son was smiling a big toothy grin at the camera, a second picture came through of him eating breakfast. You clutched the device to your chest and sighed.
You texted your mom a quick ‘I love you, give him lots of kisses from me’ before turning your phone to airplane mode and shoving it away. You busied yourself with setting up your mobile work station. Suzanne approached Lloyd from the back of the plane, her arms crossed. She was practically hissing at him. You couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, just some passing words. You tried to pick up more but couldn’t as the other data analyst had started going over some of his notes with you.
You eagerly jumped into the conversation, wanting to prove your worth to be here. He went over the schedule, times you would need to be online and the timeline to get the data dumped on the internal server. You took notes on the items you needed to remember, and were quick to point out some gaps in the software he had overlooked. He seemed impressed with your catches and asked you to make sure everything was tightened up by the time you landed.
You were happy to have something to do on the flight, although you could feel your mind drifting back to the car ride there. You stole glances at your boss as he laid out in his seat. Before long a stewardess was coming around to offer drinks and food. You felt yourself flush with annoyance when she flirted shamelessly with Lloyd, and made for the bathroom as quick as you could.
You splashed water on your face to cool the anger that had rushed through you. Were you jealous? No, that was ridiculous, you didn’t even know what this thing with Lloyd was. For all you knew it was your turn to be fired and he was having his fun before he showed you the door. You clasped your hands to your chest at the ache that had settled there. Even though you were in no position to be doing something like this, with your boss no less, you couldn’t help but hope that whatever this was, was real. You took calming breaths as you pushed down at the thoughts, the evil little voices swirling in your mind, mocking you.
The light tap at the door shocked you back to reality. Now was not the time, this was work. You needed to focus and get back out there. You called out a “just a minute” before checking your reflection one last time and unlocking the door. You were confronted by that woman, Suzanne.
“Sorry, not a good flier.” It was the only lie you could think of on the spot. She rolled her eyes at you and sarcastically motioned for you to move. You awkwardly shuffled around her even though she left you no room to exit. Once the bathroom door closed behind her you rolled your eyes and subtly gave the finger.
You heard Lloyd snort, forcing your gaze to him. He was eating his meal while working on his own laptop. He winked at you and blew you a kiss. It took all your restraint not to roll your eyes at him. You plopped yourself back in your seat and picked at your food while working on the software. You noted several points to bring up to your manager when you got back to the office. Too many access points, the entire company’s selling point was confidentiality. You couldn’t have breaches. Your brain went into overdrive for the rest of the flight, making notes here and there, while making the fixes required to finish the job.
Before you knew it the plane was touching down in Oslo at another private air strip. You looked out the window and spied several more black SUVs ready to take you all to the villa Lloyd had rented as the central point for the job. Once there you knew you wouldn’t be able to access your phone again or reach out to your mother. You pulled your cell from your pocket and glanced at Lloyd. He was already watching you, for how long you weren’t sure, but gave you a subtle nod.
You flipped it off airplane mode, and texted her as fast as your fingers would allow. ‘Hey mom, just touched down. Unfortunately cell service is really bad so I likely won’t be able to reach out until we’re back at the airport. I love you.’ You waited for the delivered message to appear before turning your phone back to airplane mode once more. You were not willing to be the reason something was compromised on this trip.
After all your things were packed away, you followed your colleagues down the steps and out onto the tarmac. There was a chill in the evening air and you pulled your light jacket tightly around you. You felt unsure of where to go. It was Lloyd’s hand once again on your back as he guided you to the last SUV in the line. The man standing by the vehicle nodded to Lloyd before opening the rear passenger door for you. You climbed in followed by Lloyd. Sitting back you puffed out a breath of exhaustion. Travelling all day was harder on you than you anticipated.
Lloyd’s hand landed on your thigh and he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I can’t wait to hear all about the bathroom break Sourpuss.” You could feel the smirk spread across his lips as they grazed your neck. The giggle that came from you was completely unexpected and had Lloyd rumbling in a low laugh beside you.
You turned to face him, your eyes tracing his features again. He quirked an eyebrow at you, a question. You shook your head, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him into a sweet, tender kiss. His strong hands gripped your thigh and your hip tighter. You both stayed like that, barely moving, trading slow kisses. The intimacy of the situation something you had never experienced before. If this had been any other time you would have called it the perfect moment. That ‘perfect’ moment was broken all too soon by Lloyd’s phone ringing obnoxiously. He growled before digging it out of his pocket. His left hand stayed gripping your thigh.
It was then that you zoned out, thinking about your past relationships. You were sure you could hear Lloyd’s annoyed responses to the person on the other end of the line, but if anyone asked you what was said you couldn’t have answered. There was a connection here that you had never felt before. Your ex…that had been a relationship built on expectations. Your plan.
Finish school.
Get married.
Have a family.
All before a certain age, of course. Sure at the beginning you loved him. In the way that you love your college sweetheart. But there was always that chasing of what you expected your life to look like. Certainly not a divorced, single mother. That was not part of the plan. The expectations. The plan also included you being much further along in your career, but working for Hansen Government Services was always supposed to be a stepping stone. Not a permanent position.
Something about Lloyd’s call seemed to escalate his earlier annoyance to anger, you saw the vein popping in his forehead, his posture stiffening. Without even thinking you brought your hand up to stroke his hair. It was a strange feeling having this intimacy so quickly with a man. But you supposed it wasn’t like when you were ‘dating’ before. There was a moment then when your heart felt like it stopped. You weren’t dating Lloyd. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You were his employee. You felt that crushing ache again from the plane, as the stewardess had flirted with him.
The thoughts rushed back, with new ones joining them to mock you. Too old, not his type, poor, used up. Of all the women you had seen paraded through the office, and shortly after kicked out, they were all hot, young things. Your thoughts were coming in waves now, so strong you felt like you were going to lose your plane meal. Lloyd gave a you a quick side-eye as your hand slid from his hair to his shoulder, but didn’t acknowledge your discomfort beyond that. You took a deep breath and then plastered a smile on your face. Lloyd’s nostrils flared as his anger began to peak at the unknown caller.
“Listen here you stupid son-of-a-bitch.” Your sudden jolt back to the real world had you narrowing your eyes at Lloyd. You knew he was harsh to his staff, so it shouldn’t surprise you that he was just as brutal to others. This time you didn’t try to soothe him. You needed to remember your place. Employee. “You either get him where I told you to get him, or you're gonna find a really fun surprise tonight.”
Lloyd’s hand on your thigh had turned into a vice grip, which you knew had nothing to do with you. That grip stayed for the entire car ride to the villa.
Once you had arrived you followed Lloyd into the main entrance, and searched out the analyst from the plane. He was heading up the stairs to bed. You called out to him, “Where are we setting up?”
The other guy rolled his eyes, you couldn’t remember his name Rick? Bob? Something like that. “We can set up in the morning. I’m tired.”
You glared at Bob, (Rick?), “Can you just tell me so I can set up, so I can go to bed?” He pointed to a room to your left, in a normal situation, you supposed it would probably have been a great room. It was beautiful, opulent, perfectly tailored to Lloyd’s taste. You nodded and released the analyst to his bed.
As you entered the great room, you saw Lloyd arguing with Suzanne. You still weren’t sure who she was, but knew she had influence over this job and she annoyed Lloyd. You made a mental note to be sure to be measured in your interactions with her, especially around Lloyd. Four long tables had been set up in front of several screens larger than you had ever seen before. The front two tables were clearly meant for the ground team support. There were monitors, fans, and computers already set up. The back two tables were empty, but clearly meant for you and your colleague. A group of armed men dressed in black brought in your equipment. Why were they armed here? You didn’t place too much weight on it. Your brain and body were screaming for rest. The highs of the last two days were beginning to catch up to you. You were clumsy with your movements as you connected wires, it wasn’t pretty but you could clean it up tomorrow. You booted up the laptop to check on the software changes you had made, you were squinting at this point trying to keep your eyes open.
A click of a tongue behind you, jolted you back to full wakefulness. You spun to see the room had emptied, except for you and Lloyd. “C’mon Sourpuss, the rest of that can be done tomorrow.”
You straightened up a couple items before following Lloyd back to the main entranceway. He set off at his usual pace up the stairs. You followed, nervous of the sleeping arrangements. You were a last minute addition to this OP. The likelihood was that there was no room made up for you. The way the other analyst had rushed up the stairs you knew that rooms had already been previously assigned out. Even with your nerves, you kept your gait steady and even behind him.
Lloyd stopped in front of an ornate double door and pressed his finger against it, slowly sliding it down to the handle as he turned to you. “One time offer Sourpuss. You can come in here tonight,” he waggled his brows up and down in a way that was meant to be suggestive, but on him just looked comical to you. “Or you can stay in the room down the hall. Choose wisely, no changing your mind later.”
He smirked at you as he waited for your answer, but there was something else. The lewd mirth didn’t reach his eyes. They were guarded in a way you found hard to interpret. You glanced down the hall to all the closed doors around you. “I’ll stay here…” You trailed off, then threw Lloyd a smirk of your own before pushing the door open and tossing over your shoulder, “But I’m still not sleeping with you.”
Lloyd’s chest shook with his laughter as he followed you in closing the door behind him. “Yet.” He said to the room at large.
You saw your bag stacked neatly at the end of the giant monstrosity of a bed next to what could only be Lloyd’s. At your questioning look, you saw pink high on his cheekbones. “You were really banking on me saying yes, huh?”
He shrugged non-committably, and busied himself with heading to the ensuite.
You opened your suitcase and rifled through the unorganized mess inside to pull out the pyjamas you had packed. Suddenly wishing you had packed something sexier than the Disney themed short set you had.
“You could just sleep like me, Sourpuss,” Lloyd sauntered past you dressed in a silk robe and slippers. “It’s freeing once you get used to it.”
The deadpan stare you gave him had him muttering something about having pyjama pants in his bag. You rolled your eyes and stomped into the ensuite yourself. The audacity of this man, what did he take you for?
The employee who jumped him in his office less than 24 hours ago.
You couldn’t even come up with a reasonable response to yourself. It was the first of the thoughts you’d been trying to push down that had just stated the truth. No self-hate, no circling thoughts. You needed to talk to Lloyd. You aggressively brushed your teeth and washed your face. Stripping out of your clothes, you tossed them on the ground, you turned on the shower before you could think better of it. You needed to wash off the travel.
Standing under the water, you sighed as the tension drained out of you. The heat providing you grounding from your miserable thoughts. You were so absorbed in the feeling of the tension releasing you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening and closing. It was Lloyd’s hand on your hips that alerted you to his presence, you jumped and slipped. Lloyds hands steadying your body. “What the hell are you doing? I could have fallen!”
You saw Lloyd roll his eyes as he spun you to face him. “Never let that happen, Sourpuss.”
You kept your eyes trained on his, unwilling to let your gaze wander lower. There was a spark in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite name. You placed your hand on his chest, halting him from pulling you closer. “Lloyd, I was serious before. I’m not sleeping with you while we’re working.” You were proud that you kept your voice even, as you felt your heart rate increase. A heat flowing lower in your body. You were sure it was written all across your face.
He pouted then batted your hand off of his chest pulling you closer. His hand skated up your body from your hip to your hair and knotted itself there. He hesitated for a moment before diving into your lips. You expected the kiss to be like the ones from this morning when you had lost yourself grinding on him like a horny teenager. Instead you felt raw emotion. He was pouring himself into you as the water from the shower beat down around you both. The kiss left you dazed and panting when he finally drew back. You wanted to dive in for more, but he tutted and swirled a single finger motioning you to turn away from him.
Now you were confused. There was the snick of a cap being opened and closed and then you felt him steady you as he used a cloth to wash you. He started at your shoulders and slowly worked his way down. He knelt behind you and teasingly bit at the round of your ass before he cleaned you right down to your ankles. He rinsed your back before tapping you on the shoulder, your cue to turn around. You carefully turned, in awe and shock of the care he was taking with you. He repeated the process with your front, except this time stopping to suck at first your right nipple. Your hand immediately cupped the back of his head and you arched your back. His tongue swirled until it had hardened to his liking, he then repeated the motion on your left. You tilted your head down to look at him, hunger written all across your face. He finished washing your front and rinsed you off again.
You were about to pout at him when he lowered himself to his knees with a grace you hadn’t expected from him. He pulled your left hand to his shoulder, and lifted your right leg so it rested on his other shoulder. At your questioning look, Lloyd gave you the look from before, his promise. He didn’t hesitate any longer before diving in. His left hand grabbed your ass and massaged as much as he braced it. Light kisses that sent shocks up your spine started at your belly button and just kept going lower, lower, lower.
You couldn’t remember the last time a guy had gone down on you, but you were sure it had never been like this. It had always felt mechanical, more about getting you ready for more. This felt like pure pleasure.
His tongue traced along your opening first, teasing. Then you felt the pressure on your clit. So much better than your vibrator. He experimented with sucks and swipes until you started making the noises he was looking for.
You could feel your orgasm building, it was slow but powerful all the same.
“Ugh, Lloyd. I’m-ugh-please.”
You weren’t sure when but your right hand was tangled in his hair now. His blue eyes stared up at you, that same look from when he got in the shower. You didn’t know why, or have the brain power to care, but that was what pushed you over the edge and into your orgasm. Your legs felt like jelly as he brought your leg back down and rose up to you. You kept both hands on his shoulders, not sure you’d be able to stand on your own for a bit. Your eyes were dazed as you met his gaze.
He gave you a tender kiss, that had you tasting yourself, and moaning into his mouth. When you reached for his cock he batted your hand away. “Not today Sourpuss. Time for bed.”
You were confused, but your brain refused to supply why that was weird at the moment. Lloyd turned off the shower and led you out. He dried you off and then ushered you into the bed. Your last action before drifting off pulling Lloyd as close as you could and tucking your head under his chin.
Once you were asleep he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and hummed softly.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The next morning you woke to the sun streaming through the window. The crème white sheets were draped over the lower half of your body leaving your back exposed. You reached across the bed for Lloyd and finding - nothing. You blinked your eyes open confused at his absence. Memories from the night before rushed back then. As if to answer your confusion, but of course the memories didn’t settle you in the slightest. Lloyd’s absence was worrisome, but not unexpected.
You groaned, pulling yourself from the bed and stretching until you heard a few cracks. Your suitcase still lay open at the foot of the bed, so you quickly grabbed fresh clothes for the day. Black pants and a grey sweater, you wanted to be understated, but still professional. Glancing at the clock on your phone you saw you had fifteen minutes to get downstairs. You raced through your morning routine, throwing on a little mascara, before getting dressed and running down to the Great Room.
The doors were closed this morning, you took a few steadying breaths to calm your heart rate from the sprint down the stairs, and then pushed the doors open. What you saw inside was like nothing you had seen before. While the office was often tense, it was always quiet. This was pure chaos.
Lloyd had an ear piece in and was directing the ground forces through the OP. The front two desks were now occupied by two of the techs from the plane. A few heads swiveled to your direction at your entrance, but quickly diverted to back the screens. You looked to the set up beside your table to see the other analyst still hadn’t even set up his workstation, let alone started working. You pursed your lips and hurried to your station. There were things that needed to be done and set up prior to the ground team downloading the data. Checking through the software you saw it wasn’t ready. Shit, Lloyd’s gonna flip. You had two options, rat on the guy and let the job be a bust, or work your ass off to fix it in the next ten minutes. It was an easy decision, even if you thought Bob/Rick was an idiot, how he got selected for this you’ll never know.
You rolled up your sleeves and started typing and clicking furiously. You tuned out the commotion of Lloyd yelling, “The door’s right fucking there. Morons!” Suzanne huffing and antagonizing, the support for the ground team giving contradictory directions over each other. You popped an earbud in so you could drown out most of the noise. It was too much and you had a lot to do before they got to the server room. Glancing up at the large screens you saw they had been set back by an internal security force. You silently cheered as that gave you the extra time you needed, just a couple minutes to get the program active. A shadow fell over your screen, but you ignored it, too engrossed in the task at hand. You glanced towards the doors, Bob still hadn’t even entered the room. You huffed, and quickly pulled up the schedule, the timing on this program wasn’t location sensitive, so you knew you could launch as soon as it was ready. You did a quick double and triple check of your work before executing the program. Now you could relax. The data will be securely dropped to the Villa, so nothing for you to look at until the ground team got back. You slouched a little in your chair, feeling the initial anxiety of the morning start to ease. It was then you noticed the shadow over your desk and the clenched jaw above your head. Lloyd was gripping the back of your chair so hard you were sure the wood was about to snap. As subtlely as you could, you ran your thumb across his hand. He glanced down at you and then pointedly looked at the empty table beside you.
“Do you, uh, want me to go grab him, Mr. Hansen?” Your voice shook. This was the first time you had seen Lloyd’s unhinged rage directed at you, even if it wasn’t about you.
Lloyd leaned down and whispered in your ear, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “You tell him, if he likes his head attached to his neck, he’ll be down here in five. I’m counting from…now.”
You launched yourself from your chair, moving faster than you were sure you ever had before. Although the threat was not directed at you, you wouldn’t let it be your fault that this man got dismembered. Not that you thought Lloyd would actually do that. But the threat was enough, it was always enough. You flung open doors along the hallway, leaving Lloyd’s room, not bothering to close them behind you as you went. That was about to be someone else’s problem. Of course this guy chose the last room in this stupid place. Why wouldn’t he pick one closer to the front? Asshole.
You burst into his room, “Get up. NOW!”
Rick fell out of the bed with shock. “What the fuck?!”
”Hansen’s pissed you didn’t show up.” You checked the clock on the nightstand, “You have like a minute and a half to get down there before he fully loses it.”
The colour drained from his face and he threw on the clothes he was wearing the day before. He knocked you into the doorway as he sprinted past you down to the Great Room. Pain radiated from where your hip had connected with the door jamb. You were definitely going to trip that guy, once Lloyd was done screaming at him.
You went in search of coffee, a slight limp hampering you from your newfound injury. Maybe you should find some ice too, it was definitely going to bruise. You meandered through the halls until you found the kitchen. What shocked you was the other presence in the room. Lloyd was there, filling his own mug. His eyes softened on your approach and then turned to steel as he noticed your limp. A growl rumbled through his chest, and before you could stop yourself you placed your hand over his heart.
“It’s okay, it was an accident.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, until he rolled his eyes at you.
You could feel the tension rolling off of Lloyd in waves. There was nothing you could do now to soothe him, not with your coworkers around. You were already crossing so many lines, with your hand on his chest. Lloyd mechanically filled a cup of coffee for you, before stomping from the kitchen. Your eyes followed his path, ogling his ass. You shook yourself, you can’t find this hot. That would be ridiculous.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
There was an unexpected amount of food in the kitchen as you took your time wandering around. After having to live on toast most days since the separation, having all these options was leaving you spoiled for choice. There were too many options, not something you’d ever thought you would have.
The kitchen was spectacular as well. The type of kitchen you had always dreamed about having. Huge island, that was probably bigger than your apartment kitchen, antique cabinetry and marble countertops. You may have taken some extra time to just soak in the beauty, and elegance. Something you likely wouldn’t have for yourself.
You finally decided on a bagel, still warm to your delight, and added some cream cheese and jam to your plate. At the last moment you grabbed a banana and some strawberries to balance out your breakfast. Feeling you had stalled long enough, you limped back to the great room. It took everything within you to make it as unnoticeable as possible. As you pushed through one of the double doors you kept your head down and made a bee-line for your workstation. You didn’t dare look directly at Lloyd, or your fellow analyst.
The man was silently staring at his screen subtly nodding at the changes you had made, and making sure the software launch had gone smoothly. You smiled smugly to yourself then, knowing you had done everything he was supposed to do before you were even due to start.
You smeared some cream cheese and a little bit of jam on your bagel and looked up to the screens. The ground team had already secured the data and were wrapping up the “loose ends” before heading back to the secure drop point. You couldn’t help it, in the moment you felt so proud of yourself and what you had been able to do this morning. The analyst beside you had broken out in a sweat, and you realized why soon after.
You heard a chair scrape across the hardwood behind you. It was so loud you were sure it was ripping at the flooring. You were also sure of who was responsible for the grating sound.
“Suzanne - get out.” Lloyd's tone held no room for argument, and the woman who seemed to want to do nothing but argue with Lloyd fled the room like it was on fire. This was going to be bad.
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. It seemed as if no one dared even to breathe unless Lloyd allowed it.
“So Dick,” ahh so his name was Rick. At least you knew that for sure now. “Would you like to enlighten me, actually, us all, on why our junior analyst had to do your work this morning?”
You tilted your head so you could see Lloyd out of the corner of your eye. He was stood about three feet behind Rick. He seemed deadly calm and was using a switch blade to pick at his perfectly manicured nails.
You felt dread creep up the back of your neck, it swirled through your body setting off all of your instincts that you didn’t know you had. Your body was telling you to run from this situation. And still, there was a part of you, deep down, that felt a tingle at Lloyd’s rage. You shoved at those feelings, confused again by your body’s reaction.
“I’m, uh, Mr. Hansen, sir. I um, I think I was a bit jet lagged and I may have um overslept.” Rick gulped hard. He looked a mess, his day old clothes wrinkled, sweat dripping down his forehead. “I’m so sorry sir. It uh it won’t happen again. I’ve set an alarm on my phone so I’m good to cover the rest, if um maybe we should give her the rest of the day off?”
You made a noise at that almost without your brain's consent. If you had to describe it later you would probably say it was a sound of indignation. When Lloyd’s eyes snapped to you at the sound, his lip curled at the fire in your eyes. “I don’t think she wants the day off. I think she came here to work. And you think what? I’ve put you up for a vacation? Maybe take a walking tour and get drunk before we leave?”
Rick was scrambling now, “N-no Sir! I wouldn’t dream of it! It was an honest mistake, I swear this has never happened before!”
Lloyd pointed the blade at Rick and the man whimpered in his seat. Lloyd’s steps echoed through the room as he took the two steps into Rick’s personal space. “I think it’s time for our private meeting to go over the pick up of the data, don’t you Dick?”
Rick looked confused, and then all the colour drained from his face. He was murmuring something so quietly, you couldn’t hear the words he actually managed to get out. Lloyd bared his teeth in a grin that set your heart rate pounding.
“Nobody fuck anything up while we’re gone. If you have questions, use the space between your ears.”
Lloyd gripped Rick’s shoulder and pulled him out of his seat. You now realized the pure strength behind the man. Lloyd strutted out the door with his usual swagger, and Rick? Well he shuffled along, tripping over his own feet as he tried to keep up with Lloyd’s long strides.
After the two men’s departure, you expected a sigh of relief to echo through the room. Instead you found everyone else to be just as tense as before. You picked at your barely eaten breakfast, your appetite having dissolved as your worry set in.
Lloyd wouldn’t actually hurt the guy right? You had a sudden realization of what it is you were here to do. Stealing data. It sounded harmless, but then you knew the ground team had killed to get that information. You knew that Lloyd had built this business from the ground up. There was no way his hands were clean in this.
Suzanne tore back into the room, “I don’t understand why he had to kick me out to threaten the guy.” She was huffing, “You, data analyst.” She was pointing at you now, and you provided your name, “Yeah I don’t care. Can you be ready to decrypt the data once Hansen gets back from the drop?”
You nodded slowly. Suzanne’s words confirmed your suspicions about Lloyd. You resigned yourself to doing the job of two people today. It was going to be a long day, and you definitely needed more coffee.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
It was several hours and a pot of coffee to yourself later that Lloyd returned. Alone. You weren’t sure what happened to Rick, but you were not about to start asking questions. As Lloyd tossed a drive on your desk you saw what you thought was blood splattered on his face. You ducked your head and plugged the drive in, it was probably just the lighting, Lloyd had freckles. The quicker you dumped and decrypted the data, the quicker you could get away from this feeling.
Lloyd resumed his seat at the back of the room, and over your own typing you heard the crack of a pill bottle opening. Biting at your bottom lip to stop the nagging from leaving your mouth you continued with your work. You ran the program you had reconfigured on the plane, pleased with the performance now that you had made the necessary updates.
Now it was just a matter of waiting. That and telling Lloyd he had to wait for at least an hour for the decryption to run.
You hesitated before you turned to him, unsure of how he would take it in his current state of mind. You took a moment to compose yourself, and reminded yourself that this was a good thing. “Mr. Hansen?” You hated that it came out as a question, rather than just delivering the information to him.
Lloyd only grunted to acknowledge you. That gave you so much information.
You rolled your eyes, and then tried again. “Mr. Hansen, the drive is connected to the decryption software and should be finished running within an hour.”
Lloyd grunted again as you turned to him. He was sitting with his left leg crossed over his right, and what appeared to be a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was glowering at the room at large.
“Alright, well I’m going to grab something to eat while I wait for it to be done.” You stood from your chair, quickly glanced around the room, and then made a quick exit to the kitchen. You felt awkward, but knew that most of that was the tension from earlier still lingering. Most of the team was tense, or more tense than they had been at the start of the day. You picked at some chips, and a veggie tray that was sitting on the kitchen island. Your appetite still hadn’t really returned.
You felt large hands on your hips, the one on your left side a touch gentler than the right, and jumped at the unexpected person behind you. You tried to turn in his grip and found yourself unable to. By the hands alone you knew it was Lloyd. For being a man with such a presence, you weren’t sure how he was so light on his feet sometimes. You wanted to say something to him, maybe comforting, maybe questioning, you weren’t sure what. Instead you found yourself offering him a carrot stick and feeding him by hand.
No words passed between the two of you, but you were sure Lloyd could feel the anxiety, stress, and want radiating off of you. From him you only felt the manic energy that he had been expressing since you entered the great room this morning. You felt his chest rise and fall behind you evenly, and somehow that eased some of the nerves you were feeling. Although, as those feelings receded it left only your desire for him. You mumbled out something about checking on the decryption, and then scurried from the room as quick as your legs could carry you.
The program was nearly done decrypting the data when you returned to your station. You sighed in relief that this was almost over, you would actually get back home earlier than anticipated if everything went smoothly. Lloyd still hadn’t returned to the room after your dash from the kitchen, and Suzanne was pacing behind you. You couldn’t let their distractions pull your focus, not this close to the finish line. Instead you queued up your favourite playlist and popped both earbuds in, taking a moment to make sure they were set to noise cancelling. Once you had everything set up you started getting ready to sort and package the data. You couldn’t risk sending bundles back to HQ, so you pulled several drives and started sorting. This was going to be the longest part, but you know once it was done, you could relax and climb into bed.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Before you knew it the sun had set, you were so focused at getting the data securely saved that you hadn’t even noticed the late hour. You stretched your arms above your head and checked how much you had left to complete. A broad smile stretched across your face, you were nearly done. There was a tapping at your shoulder then, that felt more like a bird pecking at the ground. You paused your music and pulled your earbuds from your ears. You were more than a little shocked to see Suzanne peering over your shoulder.
“How much is left?” You didn’t like this woman, she couldn’t even pretend to be nice, but you stuffed down your feelings and schooled your expression to neutral.
“I’m almost done, maybe another thirty minutes and all the data will be ready.” Suzanne nodded curtly to you and stomped away. She really left a lot to be desired.
“Maybe if you didn’t bother my team, they could actually work. You ever think of that?” You smiled softly to yourself at Lloyd’s remark. The exact thought had run through your head, but you weren’t going to be the one to say it.
The world was tuned out once again as you wrapped up saving everything to separate drives and duplicating everything. This was the great part, you could do this on auto-pilot. You were so happy that the job was done, that you could finally relax. You practically bounced to Lloyd as you handed him your completed work.
His lip twitched briefly as he watched you, a smile in his eyes that didn’t reach his lips. You couldn’t let yourself be brought down by his workplace demeanour.
”If there’s nothing else Mr. Hansen, I think I’ll be heading to bed.” Lloyd’s eyes had drifted down your figure, but he gave you a stiff nod of ascent.
Taking that as the dismissal it was, you turned and left the room, stopping by the kitchen to grab some snacks. Something easy to eat while you took a nice long bath. You weren’t sure when or if Lloyd would be joining you tonight, so you decided to make the evening for yourself. You set up your phone with a calming playlist, and looked through the cupboards in the bathroom for something to add to your bath. Coming up empty you shrugged and began to set the temperature of the water. Just as you were adding the final touches you heard the door to the bedroom slam. You debated for a moment before peaking your head back into the bedroom.
Lloyd stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, standing stiff as an arrow. There was a moment of hesitation from you, before you found yourself. You approached him slowly and placed your hands on his shoulders. “I’m running a bath, do you want to join me?”
Lloyd smirked at you and slowly glided his hand from your hip up your torso to cup your cheek. His thumb stroked your cheek and you leaned into his body. “Only if you promise to get me perfectly clean, Sourpuss.”
You giggled slightly, and laced your fingers through his and pulled him to the bathroom. You then began to slowly strip him of his clothing, starting from the top down. You realized now that you hadn’t really taken him in fully last night. His broad chest, that normally stretched his shirts obscenely, was perfectly defined. You gasped as you saw the black ink from a few tattoos across his torso. Lloyd chuckled lightly above you, clearly pleased with himself, but you didn’t let it bother you. Continuing on your mission you undid his buckle and opened his fly, sliding his pants down his thick thighs. He stepped out of his pants, and you slid his boxer-briefs down as well.
This was the intimacy you were craving. For years probably.
You motioned for Lloyd to step into the bath, while you got yourself undressed. Before you began shedding your own clothes you reached to turn off the tap, afraid the tub would overflow. Lloyd had arranged himself at the far end of the tub, he hummed with his eyes closed, clearly enjoying himself, before cupping some water in both hands to rinse his face. When Lloyd slowly blinked his eyes open, you realized you’d been staring at him, not leering at his body, but standing there unmoving, softly smiling to yourself.
At Lloyd’s raised eyebrow, you shook your head and quickly divested yourself of your own clothes. You were sure it wasn’t sexy, but you were also fairly certain he didn’t care. You gingerly stepped into the tub, Lloyd’s hands guiding you in carefully. He pulled you back, flush against his chest and you sighed dreamily. The steam gathered around you both creating a sense of being in a bubble.
“Is this your spa playlist?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he teased you. Even so you gave a half hearted shrug.
“Just wanted zen vibes. Some comfort I guess.”
You felt him nod behind you. His left hand had drifted back to your hip, a question in his touch. You sensed him trying to inconspicuously look as he gently poked and pressed. You hissed as he pressed on what you suspected was where you had made contact with the door frame. It was a relatively minor injury, it would pass. You’d just be uncomfortable for a couple days.
You turned in his embrace then, not sure what you were trying to do, but sure of your actions, all the same. You grabbed a wash cloth and lathered it with soap. Lloyd didn’t question you, if anything he seemed to be enjoying having your full attention on him. You decided to start with cleaning his face, carefully cleaning away the sweat and what you were now sure was blood from his temples and cheeks. Lloyd’s eyelids fluttered shut at your gentle touch and he let out a sigh so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.
Next, you moved on to his powerful arms, feeling the muscles flex under your touch. You never were someone to fawn over muscles before, but there was something about the contained power with Lloyd that made them so much sexier. After washing and rinsing his chest, and playfully pawing at his pecs, you motioned for him to stand. You took the same care cleaning his hips, thighs, calves and feet as you did his torso.
At last you had reached the spot you had been avoiding, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. Feeling less sure of yourself than you had when you started. Perched on your knees you chanced a glance up at his face, and you found you had a hard time reading him for the first time. After a few moments of just staring at each other, Lloyd’s patience must have run out. He plucked the wash cloth from your hands and made quick work of cleaning off the rest of himself. You felt the sting of rejection, you had waited too long. And while this back and forth had been fun, he was over it.
Lloyd climbed from the tub and wrapped a towel loosely around his hips after drying himself off. You hung your head, this was not going at all how you had meant it to. When you turned to apologize, you saw Lloyd’s hand outstretched towards you. Searching his gaze there was no judgement, or annoyance. He helped you over the lip of the tub then wrapped you in your own towel. Using the towel to pull you closer he nudged your nose with his own before softly sealing your lips in a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tickled his hairline with your finger tips. Both of your lips moved in sync, matching each others energy. This time it was you that licked against Lloyd’s lips asking for entrance, and he happily obliged. You weren’t sure how long you both stood in the bathroom like that with him, but it felt like forever and no time at all, all at once. You pulled back and heaved for air and rested your forehead against Lloyd’s. His eyes were mischievous and yet warm, and something else you dare not name. Not yet.
“You ready?” He whispered. But before you could answer he had swept you up in a bridal style hold that had you squawking out. His chest rumbled as laughed at your reaction, and you collapsed into a fit of giggles as he placed you on the bed. He hovered over you for a moment just looking at you. His eyes started at your face and followed a trail across your body, you weren’t quite sure existed, but he seemed to be mapping something in his mind.
“You just gonna look all night, or are you gonna get over here.” You smirked at your words. Something in Lloyd’s gaze had emboldened you again. The want, the desire…the other thing you weren’t thinking about. You pulled him onto you now kissing him fiercely, he responded immediately, a hand palming and squeezing your thigh, while the other gripped your neck beneath your ear tightly. As Lloyd made to kiss down your neck you nudged him off of you and onto his back. He looked confused until you straddled his thighs, you slowly worked your way down his neck leaving a trail of kisses, bites and licks as you went. As you moved down he spread his thighs so you could fit in between them.
You stopped just above his cock, deciding to tease him a bit first. You placed a light kiss to the head, before grabbing him firmly at the base and licking a stripe from your hand to the tip. Lloyd groaned and his hips thrust up slightly, although you could tell he was holding back. You repeated the action again, and could hear the strain in his groan this time. His fingers twitched on his thighs, as if to grab something. You took just the head of his cock into your mouth and gazed up at him through your lashes. That seemed to have done the trick because the next thing you knew he had both hands on the back of your head and he thrust into your mouth making you gag as he passed to your throat. Still you gazed up at him through your lashes.
Lloyd groaned again then said through heavy breaths, “You’re trouble Sourpuss, you know that?”
With his cock in your mouth all you could was wink, causing Lloyd to lose all composure and begin fucking your mouth with more urgency.
You gently placed a hand on his hip signalling you needed a break after a few more thrusts. Lloyd’s hips immediately went still and he guided your head back off of him. His eyes looked worried, but you licked your lips and pulled yourself up to straddle him. Using the hand you still had wrapped around his base you guided him into your glistening entrance. Biting your lip at the stretch, you locked eyes with him.
His right hand tilted your forehead to his once more as you finally seated yourself fully on his cock. Thumb rubbing careful circles across your jaw and cheek. His left hand rested on the small of your back, not guiding you, just there.
You rolled your hips a couple times, testing if you had adjusted to his size, before placing both of your hands on his shoulders. You worked your inner muscles tensing and releasing as you slowly moved yourself up and down his shaft. The hand on your back shifted to your front to begin rolling your clit in time with your movements. A small moan left your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. Your hips started to buck as Lloyd’s ministrations brought you closer and closer to release. In your daze you heard him growl something, and your eyes fluttered open again.
“That’s it, keep ‘em open Sourpuss.” You whined at his words, hips working furiously. There was an intensity behind his gaze that held you mesmerized.
You didn’t even feel a warning before your climax ripped through you, it left you boneless and sagging against him. He made to pull out, but you clung to him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled softly, “C’mon I gotta…”
You shook your head and feebly rocked your hips against his, too exhausted from your orgasm to do more. He positioned his hands cradling your body before flipping you both so you were cradled beneath him. He raised himself on his elbows and began thrusting harder, now chasing his own release. The entire time his forehead resting against yours, his eyes boring into your own. With what little strength you had left you wrapped your legs around his hips and tilted your pelvis slightly so he was hitting that spot inside you that sent shivers up your spine. You weren’t sure what the noises escaping your mouth were but they seemed to encourage Lloyd further because soon his thumb was back on your clit and you were moaning through your second orgasm of the night. As your walls tightened around him in spasms you felt his pace stagger before he was throwing his head back and moaning out his own release.
He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck and breath puffing against your skin. You stroked his hair back and let your other hand explore his body. You felt him chuckling against you, before pulling him up by his hair.
”What’s so funny?” You asked indignantly. Pouting at him with big round eyes. Had he thought the sex was bad?
”So much for not sleeping with me while we’re working.” He smirked down at you.
You slapped his chest as you both fell into laughter.
“Technically, I finished work hours ago, so actually I didn’t.” A broad smile stretched across your face.
He chuckled again, kissing your temple before responding, “Whatever you say, Sourpuss.”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The two of you laid in bed trading kisses, holding hands and sharing your snacks from earlier. Few words passed between you, but it didn’t feel like anything needed to be said in those moments. You felt free. Free to just enjoy, whatever was happening. Whatever this was.
Your exhaustion from earlier slowly crept up on you, and you found yourself whining and reaching for Lloyd again. This time you intertwined your legs and gripped him close. Before you drifted off for the night you whispered softly to him, “Wake me up in the morning, I thought you left before.”
Lloyd’s brows twisted at your request, but before he could question you, he heard you softly snoring into his chest. He squeezed you tightly, an apology and a promise.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The next morning you were awoken by a gentle kiss, “Let’s go sleepy head, time to get up. Flight’s in an hour.” Lloyd’s voice was sleep heavy, and you groaned into his chest.
”Five more minutes.” The man beneath you only chuckled before sliding out of the bed. At your annoyed whine he said, “I gotta take a piss, and have a shower before we get on that plane. Can’t walk around smelling like you all day.”
You dragged yourself from the bed, and blinked owlishly at your phone trying and failing to read the time, before giving up and following Lloyd into the bathroom. Your core ached with each step you took, sending a thrill up your spine at the memory of the night before. You brushed your teeth, and Lloyd flipped on the shower. He was moving fast this morning, and you remembered, this wasn’t a lazy Sunday morning, you were still on work time. You picked up your pace, before joining him in the shower, where you traded kisses as you each bathed and traded off time under the shower head to rinse off.
After drying off and pulling you fussed with your hair for a moment, before realizing it was a lost cause and going in search of clothes. It was a travel day, but instead of reaching for the comfiest clothes you had packed, you instead reached for a pair of wide legged dress pants and burgundy silk blouse. It was some of the nicer clothing you owned, and you rarely had occasion to wear it. At the last minute you grabbed a pair of heels instead of your normal flats, and then haphazardly threw the rest of your things back in your suitcase.
You smacked your forehead as you remembered you still needed to pack your gear up. “Can you make sure my bag gets downstairs? I have to pack up my workstation.” You were irritated with yourself for not cleaning it up yesterday.
“You got it Sourpuss, be down shortly.” You took a moment to admire Lloyd in his yellow golf shirt and black slacks, before kissing him on cheek and heading back down to the great room.
When you reached the room almost everything that had been set up the day before was gone. You were shocked by the teams turn around time. If things had gone along the original plan, you would have been here another night. You felt sadness stir in your chest as you packed away your things. Everything with Lloyd had been so easy here, and now you were going to fly back home, and what? You didn’t even know if you wanted to have that conversation. You huffed, and shoved things more aggressively than necessary into your bag.
The rest of the team had filtered down into the hallway as you had packed away your items, everyone pleased to be going home early. How you envied them. A man entered through the front door as Lloyd strutted down the stairs, “You,” He pointed to the new man, “Go get my bags from the master and load them in the car.” Although the man was twice the size of Lloyd, he quickly made for the stairs to go do his bidding. “Let’s go.” He said to the room at large, and you all quietly filed out after Lloyd into the waiting cars.
One of the ground team support team members offered to have you ride with them, but Lloyd cut them off with a sharp, “Nope.” Before steering you to the last vehicle in the line. Once in the backseat together again, you linked your hand with his.
”Do you think, would it be alright if I…” You held up your phone, unsure if you should even ask.
”Yeah,” He said curtly, “Just make it quick.”
You nodded and quickly flipped airplane mode off. A flood of text messages and missed calls came through, You’d never been this popular before. You tapped the conversation with your mom to see she had sent about 50 pictures for you when you could use your phone again. You laughed at the picture of your son trying to show her how to paint properly, with his front covered in paint. Without thinking you leaned into Lloyd and held the phone for him to see. He forced a chuckle and leaned down to place a kiss to the top of your head.
He pulled his own phone out and began to type furiously. You typed out a quick message to your mom, and waited a few minutes to see if she would respond. After getting her response you smiled and flipped the phone back to airplane mode. You hugged the phone to your chest and sighed. Even though this was about the same amount of time as you normally traded off with your son's dad, it was different to be in a completely different country from your child.
Lloyd threw an arm around your shoulder allowing you to burrow deeper into his side. He hummed softly as he continued typing away on his phone. As he finished he pocketed it with a flourish and then pulled you closer to him again. With a finger under your chin he tilted your face up, “None of this on plane.” Before he was descending to kiss you softly. There was no heat behind this kiss, but there was still the echoes of want.
”Of course,” You snorted your reply as you parted. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
He rolled his eyes at your joke, but didn’t respond. The rest of the car ride was spent trading those slow kisses again. The same ones that you had traded on your ride from the airstrip. You glanced out the window and pouted slightly as you realized how close you were to returning home.
”What’s got you down, Sourpuss?”
”I’d love to come back here sometime and actually you know, see the place. I never really traveled much before.” Your gaze followed the sights receding into the distance, a wanting look in your eyes.
Lloyd didn’t say much, but you saw him surreptitiously slip his phone back into his pocket. The car jolted to a stop, and you knew your little bubble with Lloyd was beginning to burst.
Oh good, something to think about on the plane.
You reached for the handle, but before you could open the door Lloyd was pulling you to him, “Need to taste you one last time.”
He caged you into the car with his arms, and this kiss? It sent your toes curling. His tongue bullied its way into your mouth. You found yourself whimpering and whining into the kiss, begging him, for what you weren’t sure. You didn’t know how long it had lasted, but the moment was broken by the driver tapping on the glass of the window.
You found yourself panting for air and clinging to Lloyd like he was the only one who could save you. He smirked down at you, and then smoothed his own hair back before opening the door on the other side of the care and stepping out. You choked back a growl, before attempting to straighten yourself up and following him out.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Several hours later the flight touched down, and although the flight had gone on forever, you still found yourself squirming at the kiss Lloyd had given you, no taken from you, earlier in the day. You were sure he caught you squirming a few times, as you had heard his low chuckle every so often.
As soon as they opened the doors, you were on your feet. Lloyd seemed content to take his time as the rest of the team raced to get off the plane. It only took a few minutes before it was just the two of you left. Lloyd stretched obnoxiously giving you a view of his stomach, as you stood with your arms folded across your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.
”Something wrong, Sourpuss?” He knew what he was doing, that much was clear. Instead of responding you simply huffed and glared at him. He let out a bark of a laugh before pulling you to him. “Awe, don’t be so upset. Now that we’re back we’ll have plenty of time for…” He dramatically trailed off, and then waggled his brows.
That was what broke through your frustration, and had you laughing into his neck.
”Fine, but that better include dinner. At a really nice restaurant.” You mock glared at him again, and he pecked your nose before responding.
”If that’s all it takes to keep you happy, it would be my pleasure.” His smile was sincere as he lead you to the exit of the plane. You saw his posture, and assumed his facial expression, immediately change as soon he came into view of the tarmac. This was new.
Of all the women you had seen Lloyd chase off over the years, it had always been obvious what was going on. He didn’t refrain from making lewd comments, or actions in the company of other staff. But with you, it’s been a bit of an open secret. You were sure the office would know come Monday that you and Lloyd had shared a room together, but at the same time he wasn’t treating you differently in front of your co-workers. The realization left you in awe as you made your way down the steps and followed him to the waiting car.
As soon as the door snapped shut behind you both, you were straddling his lap. This time as you kissed, you fought him for control. Something about this moment made you want to show him you wanted him just as much as he seemed to want you. His hips bucked underneath you, throwing you momentarily off balance. It was enough to give him the upper hand, and before long you were mewling for him again.
“Why is your place so far from the fucking plane.” He panted as he pulled away to catch his breath. You opened your mouth to answer, but were cut off by his lips sealing over yours again. His hands grabbed your hips and ground them into his own.
Just as you were about to reach for his belt, the car stopped and the engine cut. ”What? How? We can’t be here yet?” You whined.
”It would appear so,” Lloyd hummed and glanced out the window. His gaze darkened, but you didn’t pay it much attention. “I’ll pick you up for dinner at 7.”
You were confused by his change in attitude, but shrugged and pulled yourself together a bit before exiting the car.
You were shocked at the sight in front of you when you opened the door. There was your son standing with a sign he had clearly painted, and behind him was a man with a giant bouquet of flowers.
”Welcome home Mom!” James squealed and launched himself at you.
”Oh baby! Mommy missed you so much!” You hugged him tightly before straightening back up.
The flowers descended and you got a good look at the man with your son. It was your ex-husband, a contrite smile on his face and sadness in his eyes. Your confusion was written all over your face, and laced through your voice.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/N: The center photo is indicative of the reader's gown only. Not her appearance which isn't defined.
Part 35: Dance with the Devil
Series Masterlist
Words: 5.2k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, intimidation, dark seduction. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
"You are almost ready," Yelena said with a smile, just after the stylists left. "Now the jewelry."
You paused, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your gown was an exclusive creation by a top designer, a beautiful sleeveless, a-line creation in layers of tulle, sequins, and matte satin. Shades of pale blue and gold transformed you, enhanced by the ornate way your hair was done, the subtelty of your carefully applied makeup. Beneath you wore the most elegant little gold heels that were surprising comfortable despite their minimal style. The stockings were sheer, hugging your upper thighs just below the skimpy ice-blue panties you wore.
The mention of jewelry brought up an unhappy memory and you knew Yelena recalled it too when your gaze met hers. How your husband's ex-mistress smuggled her necklace in for you to wear on another special occasion had never been solved.Had it been Neal? Hansen? A reminder from the not-too-distant past that your enemies could reach you at any time. A reminder to be vigilant.
"What jewelry?" you asked carefully.
Yelena smiled. "I picked it up myself," she told you, lifting a delicate strand of diamonds set in gold from a black velvet box on the bed.
When she draped it around your throat, you smiled at the way it completed your look. There were matching earrings, diamond studs each with a teardrop diamond dangling and catching the light. The set was exquisite.
"Harry Winston," your friend told you, admiring how they looked on you.
"Nice of them to loan these for the ball," you told her, grateful you got to wear them.
Yelena reached for the golden mask on the bed, holding it to you. "No loan. Steve bought them."
What?
"These must have cost a fortune," you mused. They probably cost more than everything else you owned combined. "Glad you're going with us. I'd hate to get mugged for these."
Yelena grinned. "Security is going to be tight already with so many important people there. The mayor will be there. One of the state senators."
You scoffed. "Why am I going? I'm no one special."
"But you are," Yelena told you. 'The fact that everyone wants you has been a powerful motivator in this game of chess. Your husband is completely devoted to you. Barnes would love to get his hands on you."
"Barnes would ring my neck the first chance he got," you pointed out.
Yelena's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not so sure about that."
"Hansen would for sure kill me," you said, putting your mask in place carefully. The soft mask of golden sequins fit over your eyes.
Yelena's gaze dropped at the mention of the name and you were ashamed. You needed to work harder not to bring that up to her. And you needed a subject change. Fast.
"Who's going to be here with Nat tonight?" You weren't surprised Nat didn't want to go. She'd been through so much between the horrific end of her abusive marriage and all trauma of years being left to the sadistic nature of Banner. You wanted to make sure she was well looked after while you and Steve were gone.
"Clint is staying here of course," Yelena said quietly. "Dyson will be here too. He's arranged for extra security for the house tonight."
You nodded your approval. "What about Scott?"
"He's coming with us," Yelena explained.
You smiled. Scott going had little to do with keeping you and Steve safe and everything to do with spending time with Yelena. You were pretty sure Yelena was aware of Scott's infatuation with her. Would she ever return his affections? You didn't know. Considering her tragic history, you weren't sure she could feel the same way towards him or anyone. But in the time you'd known Scott, you learned he was a good man who always had your back and never once questioned your authority. You trusted him with your life. You trusted him with Yelena too.
But would she ever give him - or anyone - a chance after all she'd been through?
You blew out an exhale, preparing yourself for the night ahead. "I guess we should let Steve know I'm ready."
"He knows," a deep voice caught you and Yelena both off guard.
Your husband strolled into the bedroom and Yelena stepped back to allow him a clear path to you. He looked breathtakingly handsome in the classic black tuxedo he wore, tailored perfectly to fit his tall, broad-shouldered physique. His tawny hair was perfectly styled, diamond cufflinks winking in the light. His tie was shades of gold and blue to match your gown, a subtle touch but one you appreciated.
Steve moved to stand behind you in the mirror of your vanity, bending to fit his handsome face in the reflection with yours.
"You look so beautiful," he said with something like reverence in his voice. "I can't wait to show you off."
"I'll be downstairs," Yelena said, making her way out to give you some privacy. "We worked very hard on her, boss. Don't mess her up."
Steve smiled at what he took as a playful warning, his large hands smoothing over your bare shoulders. Slowly, you removed the mask, placing it in your lap with your hands. His watchful gaze didn't miss the slight tremble of their movements.
"Everything is going to be fine," he explained. "I've been to this event before. All the rich, politic elite of Boston come out to dance and drink the night away and wallow in excess. It's probably Tony's favorite night of the year."
You could see it. And you were excited to go to the annual masquerade ball, as Steve's wife and not his trophy, and to enjoy a fabulous night on the town. You felt like Cinderella, going to the ball in the gown that truly looked as if magic had created it.
But you couldn't fight back an impending sense of dread. It had been so quiet in the weeks of your recovery and Steve's. Life went on. You were included in all the family's business meetings. The family business had recovered and was branching out, deals with three of the other four families made things even better.
Not that you agreed with all of it. You weren't crazy about the loan sharking or protection deals the family made. The casinos and restaurants didn't bother you as much. And at least the family wasn't making any money off drugs or trafficking. Some of the stories about the business and how other families operated you heard now were just horrific. You made up your mind early that no matter what, you'd never allow the family to make money off the misfortunes of women and children. Never.
It had been very quiet where the Barnes family was concerned. Too quiet.
"I'll be the envy of every man there tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. The soft brush of his beard made you shiver. A sensual smiled curved Steve's lips. "Are you ready?"
You nodded. You trusted your husband. You were going to do your best to have a wonderful night, just like he intended.
And still that little kernel of dread lingered.
You felt like you were in an old Hollywood movie to walk down the staircase on your husband's arm with the gown flowing softly with your movements. Honestly, you were grateful for Steve's help in keeping you balanced, relieved when you made it to the bottom of the stairs.
Dyson, Yelena, Scott, Clint and Nat were a small crowd, watching in admiration as you approached. Nat's smile was all you needed to feel like a princess. Her lovely green eyes lit up as her gaze swept over you.
"You look perfect," she exclaimed, carefully hugging you. "I knew that gown was the one."
Nat had been the one to find it when the two of you went out shopping for it. And you were all too happy to give her the credit. You knew very little about fashion. You would learn. Until you did, it was nice to have the advice of someone who already understood it.
As Nat stepped back, you forced yourself to smile. She still looked so small, so frail. She had yet to gain weight and regain her amazing figure. Your sister-in-law seemed fragile, even with the protection and love of the man she'd always wanted. Even with the full support and love of her brother. It worried you.
Dyson looked worried too, but as you did, he put on a quick smile. "You two had best get going. The line at dropoff takes forever."
"True enough," Steve said, nodding to Yelena and Scott.
You stopped to hug Dyson. "Keep her safe for me," you whispered.
"You know I will," he muttered.
Steve whisked you away to the sleek black limousine waiting in the driveway. Its glossy, jet-black exterior reflected the fading sunlight with a mirror-like finish. The long, streamlined body stretched gracefully, its tinted windows offering privacy and adding to its air of mystery. Scott climbed in behind the wheel and Yelena rode shotgun as Steve got you into the back seat, helping you keep your gown away from the doors. Once you were settled, you studied your husband. Something was missing.
"Did you bring a mask?" you asked him.
Steve smiled, pulling a small black mass from inside his tuxedo coat. No sequins, just a matte black mask he could wear. But he wasn't interested in the mask as he fidgeted with it. He was too busy staring at you.
"Are you excited?" he asked.
You couldn't help the smile the question brought on. "Yes."
Steve looked pleased. "As time goes on and things settle down, we'll get out more. Do more things like this. You look like a princess tonight."
Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes at his heartfelt words. He meant them. He was taking you out to a society function, dressed you up like you were going to the fucking Oscars. A night out like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You'd been excited since he told you he got the tickets a few weeks ago.
"There are going to be a lot of people there, sweetheart," Steve explained quietly. "I'm sure Belova went over everything with you. But I need you to listen. You are going to be with me at all times. If you're not with me, you'll be with Belova and Lang. No wandering off to talk to people or sightsee. Okay?"
You nodded. Yelena had covered the plans thoroughly while she helped you get ready for the evening.
"If I have to talk business for a moment, Belova will be with you. You have to go to the ladies' room, Belova will be with you," he continued. "Take it easy on the drinks. You're not used to alcohol and I need you vigilant tonight. We're going to have a wonderful time but..."
"I understand," you told him. "Besides, I don't want to miss any part of tonight because I'm drinking. It's my first masquerade ball. I'd like to enjoy every minute of it."
The smile Steve flashed you had your heart fluttering in your chest.
"There will be dancing, right?" you asked.
"Of course," he told you.
"You'll dance with me?" Would Steve dance with you to a beautiful ballad or classic song?
Reaching over, he tipped up your chin with his fingers, his touch careful. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you when you smile at me like that. I love you."
"I love you, too."
His lips were a teasing brush against your own but in seconds it deepened, filled with longing and need.
The sharp wrap on the dark glass that separated the two of you in the back seat of the limo from Scott and Yelena up front scared you. Then the glass slid down just a couple of inches.
"Later," Yelena admonished. "I worked too hard on her for this party, boss."
You froze thinking that was going to piss your husband off but he laughed. "Okay, sorry," he called back to her.
It made you happy. Ever since everything happened that day between your family and Barnes', your husband and your best friend got along a lot better. Steve was kinder to her, treated her with the same respect as he would any of the men in his employ. That being the case, Yelena felt comfortable enough to tease him about things like tonight. She worked hard on carefully picking her moments with him to tease. She did even better at being thoughtful when offering criticism or advice. The fact that they were getting along better just made your life easier.
"That's supposed to be privacy glass," he said, still grinning.
"Or she's just that good at her job." Honestly, she was.
"After the ball," Steve said once the privacy glass has slid back up, "I want you out of that dress. Especially if you want to keep it."
The sly warning had you grinning. "I would like to keep it. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."
"Noted," your husband said. "I'll do my best to contain myself until you get the gown to safety."
The heated looks he cut you the entire way into Boston made you wonder if he'd be able to. You couldn't wait to find out.
Once you reached the venue, you saw there was indeed an endless line of limos in the que leading up to the door. It moved surprisingly fast. Within ten minutes, Scott pulled up to the door and Yelena darted out to open the door for you. Before you could reach for her hand, Steve was there, helping you out of the back of the car with ease and ushering you up the carpeted stairs with Yelena behind you. The decorations and festive lighting dazzled you as you moved along on Steve's arm. The way the soft light reflected off the gown you wore made you feel like you were in a fairytale.
Steve stopped and greeted more than a few gentlemen on the way into the venue. One man you recognized as a senator and the easy way the two men spoke had you curious. Did the senator know who Steve was? Were they old friends? For a moment, the two of them seemed to forget all going on around them. Just as quickly, the senator's gaze fell on you and the handsome older man smiled.
"Is this your new bride?" the senator asked.
"She is," Steve replied, introducing you with obvious pride. You meant to shake the man's hand. He kissed the back of yours in an old fashioned gesture. You found him completely charming.
"Have you been to the masquerade before?" the senator asked.
You shook your head. "This is my first one."
The man smiled. "I hope you enjoy tonight. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to my wife. It's one of her favorite nights of the year."
"I'd like that," you told him. "It was nice to meet you."
Was it your imagination that Steve watched you with such wonder? Once his conversation with the senator ended, he led you further into the venue where the main ballroom was all prepared, looking like a view from a movie set.
Clusters of elegant tables arranged in a wide horseshoe shape framed the dance floor, each adorned with lavish centerpieces sparkling beneath the soft glow of the majestic chandelier overhead. The chandelier's light cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, making every surface gleam. A full bar stood ready, offering the finest drinks, while an orchestra played a symphony of enchanting melodies, weaving through the air like a spell. The room was a sea of Boston's political powerhouses, movie stars, and the wealthy elite, all dressed in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, their masks concealing only their identities—not their status. As you paused to take it all in, your husband's familiar warmth pressed against your back, grounding you in the moment as the dazzling scene unfolded before your eyes.
"What do you think?" Steve's whisper at your ear made you shiver.
"I love this," you told him with enthusiasm. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."
"You don't have to thank me." Your husband took your hand, looking like a tawny-haired prince in his tuxedo and black mask, and led you to the dance floor. Your surprise must have shown on your face because he laughed as he swept you into his arms at the edge of the dancing crowd and led you in an easy waltz.
Steve was a wonderful dancer much to your surprise. He led you with an easy grace that you delighted in and found easy to keep up with given your own love of dance. You knew you had to be staring at him but he kept you close, enjoying your surprise.
"When did you learn to dance like this?" you had to ask after he twirled you around gracefully.
"It's not so hard," he said, his attention solely on you. "Not nearly as hard as your type of dancing."
Ballet was discipline but dancing a perfect waltz wasn't easy either. You were impressed.
"Is this why you got us all dressed up?" you teased. "So you could show off your dancing skills?"
Steve chuckled. "Is there something wrong with wanting to have a magical night with your wife?"
You were delighted. But you knew it wasn't the only reason Steve brought you here. And now that you were involved in the family business, you weren't offended by the other reason the two of you were there.
Not long before he married you, Steve had acquired a prized property on the outskirts of Boston. He'd been so involved with marrying you and taking over the families he'd neglected it for a time. Now his attention was back on it, plans were being made to develop it. Together, you'd decided on an exclusive resort with fine dining, glitzy nightclubs, and a casino for the wealthy. It was a massive investment and to make it work, certain permits would need to be acquired. The senator and a few key businessmen there tonight could make or break the project that would expand your family's wealth.
It was a very important night for Steve.
He'd be spending some time talking to these gentlemen tonight which is why Yelena and Scott were there, to keep you safe. You really didn't mind. You felt like Cinderella at the ball in the beautiful gown that flowed and captured the light with your movements as you danced with your husband among the wealthy citizens of the city. As the two of you moved through the dance, you caught a glimpse of Yelena, dressed in her dark suit and standing next to Scott, blending into the background. Your best friend's gaze never left you. Scott's never left her. You smiled, enjoying the beauty of the moment, dancing with your husband at your very first masquerade ball.
When the dance came to an end, it took you a moment to realize it. One of the musicians announced the band would take a short break and be back in just a few minutes. Steve's hand at your lower back urged you to turn. The senator making his way towards you with a lovely older lady at his side.
The senator's wife was polished from head to toe. Her gown was bright pink layers of satin that matched her lipstick. Otherwise her white hair and face gave her a cold countenance, like she was an ice queen dressed for her best guess at spring. Her eyes were dark, small and mean as her gaze swept over you. The senator assured you that you and his wife would have plenty to talk about. As the woman stood there studying you with pursed lips, you decided talking to her probably wasn't the best idea.
Steve's gaze met yours and he nodded as he let the senator lead him away, leaving you with the judgy woman before you.
"This must be a special night for you," she said tartly.
Straightening your spine, you smiled. "Why is that?"
The woman's white brows rose slightly but a smile played about her lips. "You don't belong here."
"Excuse me?" You kept your smile in place.
"My father was a direct descendent from The Mayflower," she informed you. "We're practically royalty here. We built our fortune through hard work and our good name. You, on the other hand, come from poverty and crime. You father crawled out the shadows and robbed good people blind. That's why you have the money to play dress up and act like you belong here. We all know your husband fancies himself some sort of underworld prince. But he doesn't belong here either."
Oh, no, she didn't just put you and your husband down. Lifting your chin, you looked her in the eye.
"Your ancestors came over on a ship over four hundred years ago and nobody cares anymore," you told her. "You can pretend to be royalty, and tell yourself you made your money working hard and protecting your good name. But the sad truth is, your family made your money the same way mine did. In fact, your family probably paid mine to keep from getting your hands dirty or to protect your interests. And my husband is the king of Boston's underworld and so was my father before him. You may be someone in society right now, but your husband is currently anelected official. If you were smart, you'd spending a little more time being respectful."
Gracefully as you could manage, you turned your back to the rude woman and marched off. Yeah, maybe you hurt your husband's chances of getting the permits you needed for the project development once she talked to her husband. But you weren't about to put up with someone like that.
You looked all around for Yelena. You were dying to tell her about the conversation you'd just had. But you weren't watching where you were going and you collided with someone hard.
And whoever he was, he caught you in his arms, sweeping you out onto the dance floor as another waltz began. He was as tall as your husband and the scent of his expensive cologne was familiar. You realized who held you a beat before he spoke, a low purr by your ear.
"Did you miss me, beautiful?"
Barnes.
Easing back, you glanced up at your uninvited dancing partner, wearing an aura of allure and danger with ease. Barnes' chiseled jawline was partially obscured by the intricately designed black mask he wore, adorned with silver accents catching the light. Those steely-blue eyes were shadowed but still piercing, glinting with a cold intensity as his gaze met yours.
His tuxedo was entirely black and tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame effortlessly. His attire seemed to absorb the light, creating a sense that he came from the shadows. Even his shirt was dark onyx, subtle embroidery only revealing itself when he moved. And he felt strong as he held you, solid and healed.
Stop staring at the man and answer.
"I haven't thought about you at all," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite hitting that note.
As much as you hated to admit it, Barnes was undeniably handsome. From the way his hair was slicked back with precision to the confident smirk curling his lips, the man was... magnetic. But there was a sinister edge beneath the polished surface. There always had been. Barnes' posture was too poised, his movements too calculated. Every inch of him whispered danger, a wolf in the presence of unsuspecting lambs.
Pulling you close to him, Barnes chuckled. "I don't believe that. I think you I live rent free in that beautiful head of yours."
"Maybe," you said, feeling his smile widen. "I do think about how I wished we'd used more poison."
Now he laughed, a deep rich sound. "I don't doubt that."
"What do you want?" You looked anywhere but at him. Still, you were so focused on the predator that held you, you weren't really seeing your surroundings. The music, the lights, everything else seemed to fade into the background.
"What do you think I want?" Barnes asked.
As Barnes swept you around the floor, your mind scrambled for a comeback. "Your hands around my throat," you said, going with honesty. "And me dead?"
Leaning in, he ran his nose gently up the column of your neck, making you shiver. "Oh, I did. I really did. And I could have made that happen."
You were dangerously close to having him think he had the upper hand here. "No, you couldn't."
Again, he chuckled. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Releasing you only long enough to spin you in the dance, he pulled you back into him tightly. "You made peace with your husband. You're now involved in the family business. I would call Steve a pussy for even thinking about that if it were any other woman. But you're not just any woman. But you're special."
You missed a step in your alarm. How the hell did Barnes know you were in the all the family business meetings now? And that you and Steve had made peace? The questions triggered your anxiety, reminding you of the days early in your marriage when Neal had been Barnes' rat and you were always looking over your shoulder. Was someone else talking to Barnes?
"A long time ago, your mother seduced my father," Barnes whispered. "She tore my family apart. And when you came along and you weren't the poor disfigured little girl we were told you were, I assumed you were a little whore like your mother. You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone told you that?"
You didn't answer, trying hard to put a little space between the two of you. Where was Steve? It wouldn't be too conspicuous if he broke in on the dance. If Yelena or Scott came to save you, it could create a scene and unwanted attention.
"I even thought maybe, horrible thought I know," Barnes went on, "that you might be my half-sister. But it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't true either. Besides, that devious little mind in there, hidden behind all that beauty? You didn't get that from your mother. Or my father."
"What's it to you?" you snapped at him, trying to pull off pissed even though you held anger and fear in equal measure. "I'm Steve's wife. He's your boss. You'd do well to remember that."
Barnes was unfazed. "You're Steve's wife. For now. But he can't handle you." Barnes leaned closer, his gaze locking with yours. "You should belong to someone stronger."
Now you really were getting pissed. "I don't need you or any man, including my husband, to tell me who I am and what I should be doing," you said.
"You may be right," he purred. "But it's that attitude, that fire. It got me thinking... I had the wrong idea about you from the beginning. Yeah, all the bitterness from the past clouded my judgment for a while. I wanted you dead and buried next to your loser husband." When you tried to pull free of him, he tightened his grip. His grin widened. "Now I realize you're exactly what I need."
"For what?" You didn't know how much of your glare he got from behind your mask.
"To finally take my rightful place," he said as if it were gospel. "The position occupied by your current husband."
Current husband? Who the fuck did he think he was?
"Our children will be kings and queens," Barnes went on. "That dynasty would rule Boston for decades."
"My children with Steve will rule Boston," you told him angrily. "And when we're done with you, no one will even remember the Barnes family."
"One day," he said with meaning, leaning closer, "you'll be mine."
Despite yourself, you shivered. Barnes caught it.
"You want me too," he whispered. "I'll make you admit it."
As the song neared its end, you were prepared to do whatever you had to do to get away from the bastard, the man who'd done so much damage to your family. As the last strains of the symphony ended, Barnes released you to bow. You did curtsy to him, then you straightened.
"I will never be yours." You meant it with every fibre of your being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my husband."
Barnes' grin didn't fade. "Better find a way to keep him safe."
You spun on your heel, marching off the dance floor. You needed air, and a moment to calm down. You were blinking back tears, you were that angry. You felt someone on your heels as you made you way out of the main event room out ornate glass doors left open. It was chilly out there but you welcomed it, fighting back anger.
"Are you okay?" Yelena asked, her hand at your back as you gripped the railing and hung on.
"No, I'm not... o-fucking-kay," you said, trying to regain your composure. "He came out of nowhere."
"He did," Yelena said. "He got to you so quickly after you talked to the senator's wife."
"Where's Steve?" you asked.
"Talking very intently to the senator," she replied. "It appears to be going well."
You had to wonder if that would still be true once the senator's wife caught a moment to tell her husband and your little "talk."
But you had bigger problems right now. Barnes.
"Barnes is all healed up," you told her. Looking beyond her, you saw Scott by the entranceway back into the ball. "And he's got big plans."
"He wants you," Yelena said it. "That much was obvious. It gives me some idea of his plans."
You nodded. "Don't say anything to Steve or Scott right now. I just want to find a glass of champagne to take the edge off and get through the rest of the ball."
With any luck, you could maybe enjoy one more magical dance with Steve before the evening ended.
You couldn't, however, complain. You wanted to be in on the family business and this was part of it. Barnes, unfortunately, was also part of it. And he'd just announced his intentions to you and you realized now it was the pit that had been in your stomach the entire evening.
Barnes would keep tearing your life apart until he was stopped. Somehow between his drastic plans and the animosity between you and your husband, you'd found your way to a happy marriage. A path to be queen in this world. And you'd be damned if you let Barnes threaten that future.
"You're going to tell Steve, right?"
"I am." You didn't miss the concern in Yelena's voice. "I'm telling all of you. But not here."
Nodding her agreement, Yelena watched as you straightened, steeled yourself to return to the event.
"Let's find you a glass of champagne, boss," she said with a wink.
Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse.
(Buzzfeed unsolved AU)
Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, horror/paranormal elements
Disclaimer: no plot just vibes <3 it's just another banger dynamic that i loved and therefore had to write a garbage fic about. This is, in no way, a literary masterpiece so just be warned.
Here’s my Ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10
Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
eat shit. @monchouchouchou - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
