This is why I say Antonia isn't Luke's type and I know they aren't dating
These words mean everything!!! And you can tell it's unscripted and not a PR move.
Look at the way she blushes when he compliments her, the way they look at each other like they were they only people in the room getting lost in each others eyes, and the way she lights up knowing he loves how she's strong, independent, compassionate, and generous. This is the exact opposite of everything Antonia presents herself to be and even if she attempts to change her image now it won't change anything what we've seen for over a year. We've seen what he looks like when he's in real relationships and they compare to Nic not Antonia with the way he looks at Nic, talks about her, how his body gravitates towards her and they way he lights up when he knows she's near him which allows him to be himself and not need to put on a show.
Tags: Light smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Vague Historical References, Offscreen Sexism and Sex Work, Bedroom Confession
Notes:
Reader has breasts, long hair, and wears a night dress. I do refer to them as a woman. That is the extent of their description.
I play DBD. I want to bounce on Caleb Quinn. I like this Bedroom Confession trope. So, here you go! I'm working on a Part 2 which has more smut
Summary:
It is rare for a woman to work behind the bar. Rarer still, for that woman to work with drinks alone. Caleb Quinn takes a liking to you, when the Hellshire gang passes through, and he makes a point of returning. Given his reputation, The Deathslinger's presence keeps the worst of your customers at bay. When he offers to give you the protection of a husband, without any of the expectations, you agree. Unfortunately, it isn't long before you want more.
Story:
The air inside your room is stale and damp, heavy with the rising tide of August. Even in your lightest shift, the heat is nearly unbearable, stifling as it sticks to your once clean skin. In a desperate bid for fresh air, you throw open your bedroom window.
Downstairs, the men are still awake, gambling and drinking in earnest.
It is rare for a woman to work behind the bar. Rarer still, for that woman to work with drinks alone. Your guard is a weapon, and you wield it well, both for yourself and the working girls around you. Not every man is pleased when you refuse them. This is the one place you can truly rest, sitting by your window.
There is a reason you entered this arrangement, after all.
Still, the sounds of the saloon are soothing, in the face of your exhaustion. Music drifts toward you, on the evening breeze, carried up with the sound of laughter. You might have missed the knock on your door, if you weren’t already expecting it, but Hellshire is in town. You served them whiskey yourself. Where else would Caleb be, if not here?
With a deep breath, you open the door. He’s dressed down, clearly having made use of the bath, carrying his coat and hat. In fact, Caleb Quinn would be the picture of exhaustion, were it not for the weapon at his side.
Looking at him now, you can guess how this night will go. You’ll tease him for ducking through the door, too tall to even stand in your room. He’ll smile, rest on the bed beside you, and tell a simple version of his travels while you braid your hair. No matter how far his reputation extends, Caleb still worries about your sensibilities. His infamous gun will lean against the wall, propped within reach, but you’ll both ignore the bloodstains.
And then, because the devil has his hooks in you, you’ll fall asleep beside Caleb. You’ll start as strangers, only to greet the morning curled together, quilt cast aside in favor of the warm summer air. You know the heady feeling of him, warm and electric, as your gown rides far higher than decency should allow. More than once, you’ve woken to the sensation of his arm around you, his injured leg thrown over your hip.
Yet nothing will come of it. You know what he does. He’s not a good man, or even a young one. But it aches, to wake up with the weight of him around you, and know he isn’t really yours. You hate the unspoken distance between you, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness of weeks without him, the way your heart splinters when he leaves in the morning. In the eyes of the law, and god above, you are married. You only wish your husband could see you that way.
As your mind wanders, skittering over thoughts of warm hands and soft sheets, Caleb shuts the door behind him. Leaving the gun in its usual place, he turns to sit on the bed, long legs stretched to either side of you. Though you’re grateful for the privacy, your room is admittedly small. This is not the first time you’ve sat here, trapped between Caleb and the window. It's the only way he can see you without leaning, tall as the man is.
So you open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from this hell of your own making. But instead, your words die quietly in your throat, as the man reaches for your face. For a moment you freeze, mind blank but for the sound of your beating heart. His thumb brushes your cheek, right hand cradling your head, and it’s already enough to shatter your heart.
Caleb just laughs, a deep rasping sound that melts your very core. Whatever your face is doing, it must be ridiculous, caught off guard by the touch. Eyes sharp, he lets his hand slide down your arm, circling long fingers around your wrist. This isn’t part of the routine.
“Boys knocked some sense into me, on the road. Said I’m the only one who can’t see it” he whispers, tugging you closer, the distance between you finally slipping away. The metal brace of his leg presses lines into your thigh, separated by nothing more than cotton. Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, his other hand running down your back, Caleb smiles openly. “Do you love me, darlin?”
You find yourself suddenly afraid, shivering in his arms, the summer heat long forgotten. This is not what you expected, but it is everything you want. You know how long you’ve carried this love. This hunger, this adoration that took hold beneath your ribcage, sunk its teeth into your bones. You want, more than anything, to push closer. “Yes” is the only answer you can give, eyes wide and pulse racing.
You’ve always loved the way Caleb’s smile lights up his eyes. They’re shining now, the happiness bleeding through, even as he takes your breath away. It's a soft thing, lifting the weight of time and vengeance from his face.
“You know what I do. You deserve better than what you got, with me. But i’m a selfish bastard- If you’re fool enough to want me, I’m yours”
Part of you wants to laugh, even scold Caleb for insulting himself like that. But before you can do more than grin, the moment breaks, both of you startled by a loud and strikingly fake moan. The only downside to having your bed here, is the fact that you can hear some of the working girls. When a client lacks skill, your neighbor Clara enjoys making ridiculous noises, much to the delight of her fellow prostitutes.
Shocked, you look at each other for a moment, before another moan splits you into laughter. This one must be dull, if her theatrics are to be believed. But you let out a gasp of your own, focus drawn back to the rather pleasing man in front of you, as Caleb kisses the first thing within reach. You can feel his tongue lathe over your nipple, pressing your thin nightdress against your skin, as he sucks and teases. Winding your fingers into his hair, you pull at the white strands, earning a soft groan. It’s a sound you hope to hear more often.
Frankly, you hope Clara’s client can hear it too.
Caleb moves away too quickly, looking up at you as one hand slips under the edge of your dress, curling possessively around your waist. Leaning his face into the palm of your hand, he shoots you a wicked look, gesturing vaguely at the wall. You both smile as Clara makes another comical sound. “I might be out of practice” Caleb hums “but I can do better than that”
YOU DON’T LOSE Real friends, real opportunities or real relationships when you start standing up for yourself and setting clear boundaries.YOU LOSE Abusers, manipulators, narcissists, control freaks, attention seekers and mental-health destroying leeches.
Summary: Omega Katsuki needs an alpha to scent him least he has another anxiety attack. Alpha Izuku needs a mate to make him seem more approachable by the public. For their PR teams, it’s a match made in heaven. A contract is made and the whole charade begins. What happens though when in a fake relationship they catch real feelings? And more than that, what kind of nightmare have they gotten themselves into with all those fake news their prs are popping out?!
Frankie’s comment: I loved this fic. The whole part with the crazy PR teams is insane and angsty, but in the middle of that the part where they finally confess their true feelings is so sweet it kinda makes up for all of that. Plus at one point it gets so insane I was like ‘there is no way the pull this off’ and in fact they don’t. Thanks Todoroki btw. ANd then, lovey dovey happy family and pups I guess.
Best quote of it all: “I won at pregnancy I think” (Imma let you guess who said it lol)
