#at my double last name and dark hair/eyes and say 'ah clearly this is a fellow anglo saxon' asfjkl so yea people are racist
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Aurorra
Pairing: Dad!Henry Cavill x Single Mom!Reader
Summary: Henry meets his daughter for the first time.
Warnings: fluff, slight angst. Dad!Henry
A/N: I don't know why I'm a sucker for these types of stories but I am. Hope you enjoy!
It's been two years and two days exactly since you and Henry had broken up.
It had been one year, one month, and two weeks exactly since you had given birth to his daughter, the daughter he had no idea existed.
It hadn't been a particularly nasty break up or anything, but both of you were hurting. You both wanted the relationship to work out, and when it didn't, you were both too heartbroken to even remain friends.
You had moved away from London not long after the breakup, deciding to live in Manchester, which was closer to your family. When you found out you were pregnant, you had tried to call him, but he had blocked your number. You had no way of contacting him other than through instagram, but he had unfollowed you and you knew your message would get lost in the thousands he received a day if you tried that.
You had no way of contacting his family either. You didn't know what to do. You had told your family, and they were insanely happy for you, even though you were going to be a single mother. When your mom had sat down and told you her and your father would do anything to help and support you through whatever decision you made, you knew the answer.
You were going to be a single mother.
When your daughter Aurorra Enola Cavill was born nine months later, you knew you made the right choice. Being a single mother may not have been what you were planning in life, but holding your blue eyed and brown curly haired baby in your arms for the first time, you knew it was what you were meant to do.
Aurorra had become your little bestie. She was such a well behaved baby. She rarely cried, slept through the night not long after she turned a week old, and was always full of smiles that were clearly from her father. There was never any doubt in your mind that she was Henry's, and every time you looked at her and saw her blue eyes, brown hair, and her cuddly chunky body, it only solidified that fact.
Aurorra had just turned 13 months old, and your job transferred you back to London, so you and Aurorra had just made the big move back.
You had opted to move back to the same neighbourhood both because of the safety of it, and because you knew you'd have a good chance of running into Henry. You had thought about it for months on end, and knew he couldn't be kept in the dark any more.
You had just finished unpacking the last box in the bedroom, when Aurorra woke up from her afternoon nap. You changed her and the two of you headed out to ASDA to get some groceries.
You pulled in the driveway and saw car that looked similar to Henry's BMW, but you didn't think anything of it. You parked and got a less than happy Aurorra out of her carseat and strapped her into the cart before heading on your shopping journey.
You had made it through the fruits and vegetables, and was heading to the freezer section to grab frozen fruit for the growing 13 month old, when you saw a familiar back in the same aisle.
It was Henry. There was no doubt about that. He was wearing a white knitted cardigan, with faded blue jeans, and running shoes. From the top of his cardigan you saw a dark blue t shirt poking out. His hair was slightly messy, but still curly. He was reading the nutrition information on the back of a frozen energy bowl, and you quietly opened the fridge, hoping to grab what you needed from this aisle and escape without him noticing you.
You had gone over seeing him again a million times in your head, and in no way did you plan on it being in the grocery store with other people around.
But, 13 month olds have a mind of their own. At that moment, Aurorra saw a popsicle package with the characters from her favourite show, Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir, and proceeded to squeal and call your attention.
"Mama!" She squealed and pointed a chunky hand at the popsicles. "Bug!" You glanced up and Henry and watched as he did a double take back at you. His eye brow furrowed, but you ignored him, instead turning to your baby.
"Yes, that is Ladybug. Would you like them?" You asked, and she nodded eagerly. You smiled and grabbed them out of the freezer once you noticed they were organic. "Say thank you," You prompted, and she brought the same chunky hand up to her chin and then down flat towards you. It wasn't the most perfect sign, but she was still learning.
You saw Henry walk up to you and had to steel yourself for the coming conversation. "Y/N?" He asked, and you turned around to face him.
"Hi, Henry." You said, placing the popsicles in the cart with the rest of your groceries. He smiled at you, and then glanced at Aurorra. She smiled and cooed at him and he smiled back, and stroked her cheek. "Hows everything," you asked, trying to avoid the question you knew was about to come.
"Everything's good. Kal misses you. Still sleeps with the teddy you got him," He said, his eyes locked on your daughter. You smiled.
"Well, tell him I miss him too. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're running a little late. I have to get home and get her fed." You said, but before you could move the cart Henry asked you the question.
"I-is she mine?" He asked, and you nodded, trying to swallow the lump that had been forming in your throat, to no avail.
"Y-Yes." You stuttered, and seconds later, Henry's arms enveloped you. "I-Im sorry," You whimpered, and Henry shushed you.
"Its okay. Let's not talk about it here. How about I meet you at your place once were both done?" He suggested, and you agreed, before giving him your address.
"Okay. I'll see you there." he said, giving you another hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of Aurorra's hand that had curled around his pointer finger. He stroked her cheek once more, before giving you both a smile, and heading off. He grabbed his cart with groceries, and made his way towards the checkout.
By the time you had finished shopping and made it home, Henry was parked in the driveway. You took a deep breath, and got out, giving him a smile. He returned it, and got out of his car before walking over to help you.
He grabbed the groceries, leaving you to grab Aurorra, who squealed at the sight of Henry. Henry chuckled, and blew her a kiss. He followed the two of you inside. You set Aurorra down, who stumbled on her own feet before stabilizing, her empty bottle in the right hand.
"Go put your baba in the kitchen please," You said, and she babbled to herself as she walked off, ignoring you and Henry.
"She's absolutely adorable," Henry said, and you smiled. "Well, she is your daughter," You said. Henry threw his head back and laughed before following you into the kitchen.
You set the bags down on the ground and turned to put away the ones Henry set on the counter. You two made small talk while putting away the groceries, mainly about work. You heard ruffling behind you but didn't think anything of it, as Aurorra usually liked to help put away the soup cans.
"Mama?" You heard a little voice ask and you turned around to face Aurorra. She was holding the box of popsicles out to you in one hand, while her other hand made a clockwise motion on her chest, signing please.
You smiled and took the box from her.
"After dinner, okay?" You said, and she didn't like that very much. She plopped on her butt and began to cry.
Her arms reached up to where the popsicles were and sobbed her little heart out. Henry's heart melted and scooped her up. "It's okay baby girl," He said, bouncing her. She sniffled, but calmed down and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled in happiness, and pressed a kiss to her curly head.
He turned to you. "I just realized, I don't know her name," he said, and you smacked your head.
"Shit sorry, I completely forgot to mention that. Her names Aurorra Enola Cavill. I made sure she got your last name, and that you're on the birth certificate." You said, running your hands through her curly hair.
"Enola? Like Enola Holmes?" He asked, as Aurorra cuddled closer, her chunky arms wrapping around his neck. You nodded.
"Yeah. I couldn't think of a middle name for her, and I was watching Enola Holmes just before she was born. It was the scene where Sherlock and Mycroft see Enola on the train platform and you say her name. I knew then it was perfect." You said, and Henry smiled.
"It's a beautiful name," he said, wrapping his free arm around you. The three of you stood there for a few minutes, before Aurorra shook her hands at you, and tried to wiggle out of Henry's arms.
"Ah dun, Mama." She said. Henry pressed a kiss to her chunky cheek, and let her onto the floor. She scurried away seconds later, towards her bedroom.
"Is she okay wandering by herself?" He asked, watching her little body fall to her hands and knees, but get up and brush it off before continuing on her mission.
"Yeah she'll be fine. She's just going to play." You said, and Henry nodded before pulling you into his arms fully.
"I really am sorry I didn't tell you about her. I couldn't contact you or anyone in your family, and I didn't have the energy during my pregnancy or after to make the journey to London. I promise I didn't plan on hiding her forever." You said, and Henry squeezed you even tighter.
"It's okay. I know you'd never do something like that on purpose. You've done an amazing job raising her. I just wish I had witnessed it."
"You'll get to see her grow. You might have missed her start life, but I have everything recorded. Her first breath, her first steps, her first words, all of it. I know it's not the sam-" You said, but were cut off by his lips.
His hand travelled up to cup your face, before he pulled away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just- You amaze me, you know that?" He said and you giggled.
"How so?" You questioned.
He rested his forehead on yours before continuing. "You thought to record everything. You made sure she has my last name and that I'm on the birth certificate. You didn't have to do that, but you did. I've missed you so much, and I didn't know just how much until I saw you in ASDA. I never should have left. I never should have blocked you." He said, a tear falling from his blue eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that alone. Thats never what I wanted. But, I promise to be the best dad to her, whether we're together or not."
"I know you will be," You said, and pulled Henry in for another kiss.
The groceries were put away a few minutes later and you told Henry to go and play with Aurorra while you cooked, which he happily did.
He walked down the hallway to her bedroom, and smiled lovingly when he saw his daughter sitting on the ground playing with blocks, a stuffed Akita just like Kal secure under her arm. She was babbling to a Mickey Mouse toy that sat in the corner of the room, and was stacking blocks.
Henry began to walk in the room when she stopped babbling let out a sneeze and a sigh. He grabbed a Kleenex from the change table and sat down next to her.
"Hey sweetheart, can I wipe your nose?" Henry asked, seeing the snot coming from her nose due to the sneeze. She looked up at him and giggled, which Henry took as a yes, and he wiped her nose quickly before disposing of it in the garbage can.
She began babbling again, and pushed the Akita stuffy into his hands. "Goggy," She said, and clapped, which made Henry smile.
"It is a doggy. I have a doggy like your stuffy, wanna see?" He asked, and she nodded and clapped.
Henry pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Kal. Aurorra stood up and clambered into his lap, which Henry welcomed. When she saw the picture of Kal, she started bouncing and clapping again.
"Goggy! Goggy wun!" She exclaimed when he showed her a video of him running.
"Thats right, he is running. He's really good at it too, believe me." Henry said and put his phone away. Aurorra stood up and reached out her arm for him, opening and closing her fist. Henry stood up, and let her take his big hand in her tiny one, and lead him out of the room, and towards the back door that led to the backyard, babbling the entire way.
"Hold on, honey, we gotta tell Mama we're going outside, okay?" He said and she nodded before running to the kitchen shouting Mama.
Henry watched as she stood in the doorway and babbled before pointing at the door. She held her hand in front of her face and moved it out, closing it into a fist.
"You're going outside?" You asked, and she nodded. Henry saw you bend down and whisper something into her ear with a smile on your face and Aurorra giggle but didn't think much of it, before his little girl was running towards him and squealing.
He scooped her up and carried her out the door. She pointed at the toy box in the corner of the yard and Henry carried her over. He sat her down and opened it, before letting her pick what she wanted to play with. She grabbed a bucket with shovels and molds before running over to the lady bug sandbox and patting the lid. Henry chuckled and pulled the lid off.
"You wanna play in the sand?" He asked, and she nodded before climbing in.
Henry sat down next to her, and a shovel was thrust into his hand seconds later. She had a bright yellow one in her own hand and was digging a hole. Henry followed suit and helped her dig the hole.
A few minutes later she handed Henry a elephant mold.
"Put, Dada." She said, and Henry's breath caught in his throat, the mold falling from his hand.
"Did you say Dada?" He asked her, tears clouding his vision, and he saw her smile and point at the house.
"Mama, say." she said, picking up the elephant mold again.
"Mama told you I'm your Dada?"
She nodded and shook the mold in his face, practically begging him to take it. Henry smiled and pulled her out of the sand box, into his arms.
"I am your Dada, and I promise you I will love you forever." He said, and kissed her cheeks. She giggled before pointing at the sand box and doing grabby hands. Henry chuckled but put her back where she was. He picked up the mold and began to fill it with sand before she got upset.
"I apologize for interrupting your playtime," He said. "Now, lets make some animals."
Later that night, when Aurorra had been fed and put to bed, Henry pressed another kiss to your lips.
"She called me Dada when we were playing outside." He confessed and your eyes lit up.
"Really? I told her before she went out with you that you were her Dada, I wasn't expecting her to say it so soon!" You exclaimed. Henry chuckled, and pulled you into his lap.
"I'm so happy she did. Thank you for giving me her." He said, pressing his lips to yours before you could respond.
#henry cavill#henry cavill smut#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill x y/n#Henry Cavill fluff#henry cavill angst#henry cavill imagine#Henry Cavill x reader#Henry Cavill x you#dad!henry cavill#Henry Cavill x single mom!reader#Henry Cavill fanfiction
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Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺
(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)
[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot
[Rating]: Explicit
[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism
———
“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”
With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.
His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.
“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”
“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”
Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.
“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”
“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”
“Immensely.”
“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”
You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”
“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.
“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.
He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”
A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.
You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.
“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”
You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.
The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”
Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”
“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.
Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.
“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”
“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”
His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.
“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.
He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.
You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.
His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.
When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”
You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.
“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”
You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”
“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.
Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”
“Too much?”
“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.
You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”
The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.
Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”
He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.
“What— how did you…?”
“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”
“But I double-checked this time!”
“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”
“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.
“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”
You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.
“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”
He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.
Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.
And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.
Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.
Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.
Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”
“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.
Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”
When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.
As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”
He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan/reader#arthur morgan/oc#rdr2#red dead redemption#fic#smut#my work#this makes my kinks so apparent that i want to crawl into a hole and die#sorry for being gross :’^)
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Sunrise (3)
summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)
pairings: bucky x reader
chapter word count: 5.2k
warnings: none
🧡 series masterlist / series playlist
Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.
You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.
But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.
Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.
“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”
Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.
Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.
“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.
“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”
He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”
You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.
“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.
You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”
“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.
“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”
“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”
He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.
“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”
“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”
He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.
“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.
Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.
“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”
Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.
Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.
“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”
“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”
So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.
“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.
“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”
You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.
“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.
You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.
Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.
“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”
It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.
“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”
“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”
Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.
“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.
Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.
He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.
“Any better?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”
You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.
***
Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.
As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.
Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.
Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.
“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.
“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.
Six on the dot. You turned to the group.
Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.
Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.
Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.
Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.
A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.
A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.
“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”
“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.
“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.
“Where’d you serve?”
“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.
“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.
“And the rest?”
Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”
Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.
“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”
“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.
You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.
“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”
The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.
“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”
You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.
By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.
He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.
You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.
“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.
You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”
Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.
He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did.
There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.
“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.
You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.
***
“So! What did you think?!”
It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.
“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”
You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.
"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”
You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”
You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.
“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.
The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.
“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”
Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.
“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”
If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use. You planted your hands on your hips.
“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”
Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”
The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.
You knew. Obviously, you knew.
You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.
But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.
You knew.
At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.
Instead, you started to laugh.
It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.
“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.
Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.
“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”
“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”
He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.
“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.
“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.
“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.
He nodded, following you to the door.
“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.
“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.
“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”
Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”
“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”
Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”
He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”
Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”
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Made with love | Helmut Zemo
Chef Zemo AU! 👨🍳
Gender neutral reader!
Collage by @realremyd
[Next chapter]
Part 1
You had always wanted to travel through Europe. You wanted to see those streets at least once in your life. Meet the people, attention the languages, taste the food, and maybe even do a little shopping in certain cities.
Your friend, Wanda Maximoff, came from a rather unknown country called Sokovia. When you had told her about your trip, she had brought it up. She hadn't been back home since she left, but she remembered it well. She suggested some places to go if you ever stopped by. You made a mental note to drop by her home country for her sake.
Sokovia was a declining country. It had its fair share of issues and problems, but it was still out there waiting to be discovered. The least you could do was visit on your travels.
You had passed through Spain and France, spent a few extra days in Gemany, stopping by the Netherlands to see Amsterdam. You have lost count of the photos you had taken in Austria, and it was as your stay in Poland was coming to an end when you remembered about Sokovia. The other countries you had planned to pass through would have to wait. You spent your last night Poland planning the flyover to Sokovia, luckily finding a flight that will take you to the capital.
In your pocket you kept the list of places Wanda and suggested, her hoping most of them were still there. You would of course take pictures for her.
The plane landed and you exited the airport. You wanted to see the city. A cab station near by grabbed your attention, so you hurried over. You asked the driver of the nearest cab to drop you off in the city centre. He did.
Looking around Novi Grad, you were taken in. The city was old. People were going about their business, but some even turned to smile at you as you walked along. You took in the area, admiring the buildings and the people. You were impressed and in awe with the city.
You keep an eye out for somewhere to stay, checking Wanda's list as you go incase you spot one of the places on it.
You're not sure how long you have been strolling the streets when something catches your eye. It's not a very big building, but it stands out. A restaurant. A Spanish restaurant. You smile. Spain was one of your first stops when you got to Europe, the food was one of your favourite parts.
You realise just how hungry you are. You hadn't eaten anything since before your flight. The door is open and it looks like a good place to stop.
You look up at the sign as you get closer to it. Gold letters on a purple background. There was something elegant about it.
Escorpión Morado
You look at your list quickly. It's on there. Purple Scorpion. Wanda knew about this place. You put away the list, grab your camera, and stand far enough away to get a shot of the exterior. You smile at the outcome.
Outside there were a few tables. Four, to be exact. They had a nice view of the courtyard just in front of the restaurant. The entrance was two narrow double doors, opened wide to let air into the shop, and allowing easy access for the customers to come and go. The shop being on the corner of the street allowed a view on either side theiugh the large windows. On each window was the name of the restaurant in faint lettering. You could see inside, but decided you could admire it better by going in.
Entering the restaurant, you were welcomed with a certain warmth. It wasn't too busy, but there was still several people here, enjoying themselves. You took a picture of the inside.
The inside was nice and open, plenty of room to move around. A bar was situated at the far end, a couple of people sitting at it. You walked over the polished floor and made your way to the back. You pick a stool and sit down, looking up at the menu. There were plenty of options.
"What can I get for you?" A voice asks, coming over to you. You turn your head to see who was speaking, your voice suddenly doesn't want to work.
The man comes to stop in front of you. Brown hair swept to the side, dark brown eyes, sparkling with amusement, a smile tugging at his lips. His shirt sleeves were pushed back up to his elbows, and apron was around his waist. He had very clearly just been in the kitchen.
He tilts his head to the side slightly. You had yet to answer him.
"Are you alright?" He asks. "English?"
Oh, he thought you didn't understand.
"Um, yes. I speak English. I'm sorry, I'm fine," you feel embarrassed, shuffling on the stool slightly.
"That's alright. What can I get for you?" He asks, offering a friendly smile.
You glance up at the menu again. "What do you reccomend?"
As you glance back, you see his smile widen. You had eaten tapas while you were in Spain, but you found yourself wanting to hear him speak again. There was something about his accent that was satisfying.
"Since I haven't see you around here before, I'll make a special for you. How does that sound?"
"That sounds lovely, thank you."
He smiles and leaves you to go and make it himself. You look around the restaurant again while you wait.
On the wall just off to the side, there was a plaque. You get up and walk over to it, wanting to read what was on it. There was a photo above the plaque that caught your attention first. An older gentleman, dressed smartly and looking proud. You read the plaque to find out who he is.
Or was.
Heinrich Zemo
Founder of Escorpión Morado.
He died a few years ago, leaving the restaurant to his son, Helmut Zemo. There was no photo of his son, but you assumed he was here somewhere.
Actually, looking at the photo, you could awe some semblance with the man who had served you. Was he the owner?
You look at the plaque once more before going back sit down. The atmosphere in here was nice. You could see yourself coming here every day just to pass time. It certainly seemed like a favourite spot for these people.
You smiled as you glanced over the few people gathered here. A couple by the window, just looking out at people passing by. A man sitting at the bar talking to one of the staff members, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. There were a couple of families taking up tables here and there.
It was very relaxing here.
You turn back around when the man returns, he puts the dish down in front of you and smiles. It looks delicious, just like the one you had back in Spain.
He stands there as you take your first bite.
You stop and look at him as soon as the food touches your tongue. It's amazing. You smile as you eat it, nodding at him, impressed.
"This is the best tapas I've ever eaten."
He looks really pleased with himself.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, especially since I was Spain not that long ago." You go for another bite.
"A traveller?"
"Yeah. I always wanted to see Europe, so I've been saving like crazy and here I am."
He leans against the counter, seemingly interested in this information. You're not complaining, he is definitely attractive company.
"And you found yourself here of all places."
"I have a friend who comes from Sokovia. She had mentioned it to me before I left for my trip, the least I could do was come and see," you told him, still enjoying your meal.
"Sokovia isn't exactly a popular destination, but I welcome you all the same. I also welcome you to my restaurant."
"Ah, so you are Helmut Zemo? I was reading the plaque over there," you said, nodding over at the wall.
"The one and only. Do I get the honour of your name?"
"So you ask all your customers for their names?" You ask, smiling at him.
"Only the really interesting ones."
"Interesting? I've been here all of five minutes. What makes you think I'm interesting?"
"When you work in a business like this, you get to know who is interesting or not. It comes with the territory. Also, moat of my customers are locals, so anyone from outside the country has to be interesting in some way," he crosses his arms and looks at you smugly.
"I see," you chuckle.
"Is that a no, then?"
"Y/N. My name is Y/N," you reply rather bashful.
"Y/N, lovely."
The way he says it with his accent makes a shiver run down your spine. You had a sudden need for him to say it again, but you also had to remember to be a normal human being who isn't going to freak out the lovely man they just met.
"Your meal is on the house."
You look up at him sharply.
"Oh no, please let me pay," you say urgently.
He shakes his head.
"No, this one is free. Only this one."
"You say that as if you know I'm going to come back," you look at him with a narrowed gaze.
"I trust that you will," he smirks.
"Why?"
"Well, you ate everything, complimented both my food and establishment, and I'm far too interesting, myself, for you only to come by once."
You laugh softly, shaking your head at him. His eyes lit up at the sound.
"Insufferable," you say, sliding off the stool.
"I'm aware, you get used to it."
You smile as you make sure you don't leave any of your belongings behind and thank him for the delicious food.
"Come again," he says.
"I'll think about it."
You leave, knowing he was smiling as you left the building. You make your way across the square, resisting looking back through the window to see if he was still there.
You pull out your phone and bring up a map. You needed to find somewhere to stay for a few nights. You didn't have to look far. There was a small hotel up ahead and around the corner. You decided to try there.
Finding it wasn't too hard. You only had to go down a small backstreet. It was out of the way and hidden, a nice peaceful place to stay for a while.
You enter. The lobby wasn't too big and it was nice and quiet. The building was old, but the inside seemed well looked after.
You walk over to the desk and smile at the man sitting there.
"Hello."
He smiles, "hello."
He spoke English too. That was good. Your Sokovian was... nonexistent.
"I would like a room for a few nights."
He nods and opens a big book information front of him. He grabs a pen and flicks through room numbers.
"How long are you staying?"
"Three nights? Yeah, three should do." You still had countries to check off your list.
He nods and asks you to sign the book. While you do so he grabs a key from the wall behind him. You pass him the book back and take the key.
"Enjoy your stay."
You nod and take the stairs up. Your room was nice. Big enough for one person and on the main street side, where you came up to get here. You could just about see the square from the window.
You sat on the bed. Perfect. There was a TV, but something told you it would be Sokovian television. Maybe you could watch it just for the sake of it.
You lay back on the bed and took our your phone, calling Wanda.
She picked up almost immediately.
"Y/N, where are you?"
You smile, "Sokovia. You were right, Wanda, it's very pretty here."
You hear her little gasp down the phone.
"You're actually there? You're making me homesick now."
You chuckle softly.
"I'm sorry, Wanda. It's a beautiful city though. I even stopped off at one of the restaurants you listed."
"You did? Which one?"
"Escorpión Morado."
"Escorpión Morado? Oh my gosh! It's still there? Did you meet Heinrich? I remember him being so wonderful to his customers."
"Actually, Wanda, Heinrich passed away a few years ago. His son runs it now, but I guess you could say I did technically meet the owner."
"My heart is saddened to hear of his loss. I do vaguely remember his son. Though back then he worked in the kitchen and very rarely came out."
"Helmut is rather lovely. He stayed and talked to me while I ate."
"Is he cute?"
You roll your eyes at her question.
"He might be," you chuckle.
"Perhaps a romance will spark and you'll be left heartbroken because you'll have to come back here and maybe never see him again. I'll be here watching you drink wine straight from the bottle and gobble down ice cream because you're utterly in love with this man you met once while travelling."
"Wanda, I need you to stop watching those chick flick movies and come back to the real world. I'm not going to fall in love with him. His food, however, is to die for."
"Oh, you're in love with the food. Spain exists, you know."
"I know, I was there, remember? Kind of missing the sun, if I'm being honest, but my God Wanda, this man can cook."
"Marry that man, Y/N. He can cook."
"Wanda, shut up," you laugh with her down the phone.
"Never. Enjoy your time in my home country, Y/N. It honestly means the world to me that you're there."
"In taking photos, don't worry! I'll be home soon, Wanda. See you."
You end the call.
You drop your phone on the bed beside you and stare up at the ceiling. So far you really liked Sokovia, very different from places you had been to so far.
You smile as you think about Helmut. He was certainly the most memorable part of your stay here so far.
Maybe you would visit him again tomorrow.
For the food, obviously.
@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemo-is-my-muse @nonamec0s
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☆ [nostalgic] summer romance! juyeon
birthday present for him and one of my best friends! | tw: drowning
a soft splash of water cascades down the side of your arm and you turn your head, still floating, to see eric waving you toward him
flipping over, you dive down into the ocean and push yourself toward his direction
coming up for air - you see his eyes sparkle as he whispers, “let’s go scare chanhee!”
you scrunch up your nose and tell eric that’s not nice but he just insists he has to get back at him. did you forget the incident at the beach two days ago? you know, with the ice-cream?
you roll your eyes - recalling some argument over chanhee grabbing the last mango pop or something - but eric is gone before you can answer
you watch him doggy paddle to where chanhee and younghoon are - wrapping his arms around the other boy and pulling him down into the water
the shouts of shock and laughter wring around you like bells, everything is so happy and sweet, just how summer should be like
but something feels weirdly empty
you look up to your left where some of your other friends are, cuddled up against each other, even in the heat people in love just gravitate to each other
to your right are strangers, strangers clearly in the middle of their own summertime loves
all of a sudden - in the middle of a crowded, bustling ocean - you are hit with loneliness
when am i going to find someone who loves me?
you sink a little down, haloed by the oceans water, when you hear another sound
this one isn’t joyful, in fact it sounds like terror, and you turn to see a flaying hand only a couple of meters away
your body freezes - is that person drowning? - your muscles act before you do, propelling you down back into the water and toward the murky outline of the figure
you’re a decent enough swimmer, making it to the person - a small boy - just in time to do something
but do what? you’ve never saved someone before, do you carry him - do you -
“help get him on my back!”
the new voice comes from your side, you turn and see that you aren’t the only person who has made it to the boy
this person, all cut angles and seriousness, is wearing the lifeguards whistle around his neck and a wave of relief overtakes you
“ok!”
you do as you’re instructed and the lifeguard tilts his head toward the shore
you follow behind him and scramble up the sand - hand on the boys back as you watch everything play out in slow motion
all you’re aware of is that you’re down beside the boy, you’re watching the lifeguard do CPR, his mother and father scurry over, people are talking and yelling
then the boy jerks up - coughing and doubling over - the lifeguard is asking him something and you don’t even notice till everything is ok
that you’re holding the boys hand in your own
it’s a blur after that - after the parents thank you and the lifeguard, named juyeon, over and over.
and now - you’re sitting in a small cabin off the boardwalk, the lifeguards cabin, and you’ve got a towel on your shoulders and eric is asking if you’re ok now
you smile and say you are - just in the time for juyeon to come out of an adjoining office room and you get to look at him seriously for the first time
he’s tall, with wet dark hair pushed back from his forehead.
a light golden tint runs down through his muscular proportions and his eyes are ...
they’re captivating
long and outlined by a perpetual darkness, long eyelashes to envy over, and a brown that almost looks onyx under the light
he’s shirtless, wearing just the bright orange swim shorts and that whistle
he comes over and crouches in front of you with a smile full of kindness, puts a hand on your knee that makes your entire body ignite
“thank you for helping me today, whats your name?”
eric answers for you and you’re thankful because up close his apparent beauty is way more to handle than you had imagined
words - no matter how hard you try to think of one - don’t even manage to formulate in your mind
that hand on your knee pats your skin, giving it a little squeeze before juyeon stands back up and says he’s gotta go back out - his shift isnt over
eric thanks him and when he’s gone, you hear him chuckle
“you know you’re drooling, right?”
that summer - you go to the beach every damn day you can
you tell your friends you’re just trying to get some workouts in, you know swimming uses all your body’s muscles
but no one is fooled
because you’re not the only one with what becomes known as “juyeon fever” around town
he just moved here, took a summer job lifeguarding at the local beach, and - to only add to your dream boy list - drives a cool looking sports bike to and from work
you get to the beach early one day, trying to hide your identity with a ridiculously sized sun hat and issue of the paper you stole from the grocery store - to see him pull up for his shift
he’s wearing those swim shorts, same color as his bike, and a hawaiian print shirt in navy (unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he pulls up and parks)
he pulls the helmet off, shaking his hair lose, and you nearly curse to yourself - what is this? am i some extra in a movie all about juyeon, because he looks like the main character of a blockbuster for sure. baywatch level.
when he turns in your direction - you hide behind the sunday sudoku and hope he doesn’t notice - but suddenly the sound of feet on sand get louder and louder
he says your name and you try to compose yourself as you lower the paper
you smile, and ask if juyeon is here to start work
he plops himself freely down on the sand beside your towel and pushes the shirt off as he says he is, but he’s a little early
you avert your gaze and even as the sun beats down on you both, you feel yourself freeze when juyeon mentions he’s seen you around the beach alot
“well - it’s summer.”
you explain and juyeon laughs, and even that sound is perfect
“that’s true - the ocean is the best place to be in the summer.......and all the time.”
you see him stare out at the calm waves, his usual sweet smile still on his face, but those eyes of his look like they’re searching through a memory
“do you swim even in winter?”
you joke and he laughs again, “i do, at the indoor pools. oh - by the way your friend eric invited me to a barbeque are you going to be there?”
barbeque? what barbequ - your eyes widen as you remember that it is THAT barbeque the one you were supposed to come over and help set up
“right, yes i am - i actually i promised id buy the plates and stuff so i have to go-”
you scramble, rolling up your towel and reaching for your bag when juyeon says
“oh - id give you a ride back but my shift starts in five. ill see you there then?”
a ride on the back of your bike? - is what you want to ask, knees going weak at the thought - but all you do is nod, dumbfolded smile on your own face
he waves as you make your way up the sun and you don’t even have time to get giddy because your phone rings and its exactly who you think it is.
eric’s voice from the other side chides; “hey, where are you!? haknyeon just dropped the watermelon all over my kitchen!”
you keep looking at your watch
the little minute hand ticks to 11:39 and you wonder if juyeon is really going to come
the party has already been going on for a good three hours - the summer moon sparkling up above the strings of lights in eric’s backyard
everyone you know is already here and you know the public beach closes at 8:30 so it’s not as if juyeon is still on his shift
not unless something bad happened.........or he’s decided to skip out on the barbeque to go do something else, you know, which someone else-
just as you set down your drink, little umbrella pathetically floating to the empty bottom, you hear the reave of a bike
everyone else hears it too because the chatter gets more excited and you hear his name float from one person to another
“is that juyeon?” “isn’t that the hot lifeguard?” “oh my god, do you think he’s single?”
you try to hide your own anticipation - not cool to get so excited over a boy right? - but the butterflies flap in your stomach and you just turn away
if he wants to talk to you he can come up to you and if he doesn’t then well it’s his -
“hey, sorry im late - do you know where i can put these?”
you turn and see juyeon there - for the first time he’s not wearing those neon swim shorts, but a pair of black denim jeans
the shirt, still hawaiian print, is slightly buttoned this time but you can still clearly see the dip of his chest and the pretty silver chain that rests on the jut of his collarbones
he waves the bags full of chips he picked up on his way over and you lead him toward the refreshments table, every pair of eyes on the two of you
“did you get stuck at the beach?”
you try to make conversation
“oh no, my bike had a flat tire so i had to get that fixed before i came over.”
“oh! well eric is inside if you want to-”
juyeon is looking at you, you can feel it because the intensity of his gaze is unmatched, and you don’t know why but you can’t meet it
he tilts his head and then agrees - he’ll go see eric, but he’ll come back
when he’s gone you let out the breath you’ve been holding and try to scurry away from the gazes that have wavered on you and juyeon the whole fifteen or so minutes he’s even been here
you find solace inside, past the kitchen and near the back staircase where the guest bathroom is
you’ve been in eric’s house enough times that you know it’s a perfect hiding spot so you don’t bother closing the door
you just lean back against the sink and cross your arms - what are you going to do now? juyeon is here, but that doesn’t mean anything.
plus every last single person at this party has him on their radar
what makes you any different? the fact that you helped him ONCE?
and you didn’t even do anything that serious......you had just been there at the same moment he was......
“ah - sorry, i didn’t know anyone was here.”
you look up suddenly and juyeon is in front of you again
he has this cute, flustered expression on his face - he starts saying something about how eric told him to use the mirror in here since the main bathroom might have a line in front of it and blah blah blah
you step forward and you think it’s whatever was in that tiny little umbrella drink you had that makes you put a hand on juyeon’s shoulder and stop him mid sentence
“can you take me on that bike ride now?”
the second you ask - you think regret starts to bubble in your chest - but juyeon just breaks into another of those heart melting smiles
“of course. i actually....” he scratches the back of his neck “i actually dont really like big parties.”
you’re remembered of those lovers you had seen at the beach, tangled in each other despite the summer heat, as you press a little tighter against juyeon’s back
the wind from the bike flutters your hair - and you feel his strong figure through the thin fabric of that ridiculous shirt he’s always wearing
you close your eyes, thinking back to the shocked expression on everyones face as juyeon had pulled you through them and toward his parked bike
how they had looked so confused - and eric had just shot you a thumbs up from the back step of his door
your heart beats heavy in your ears and at the end of your fingertips you feel the flex of juyeon’s abs in response to your tight hold. it feels so intimate.
juyeon stops at the only place you’d expect him too, the beach
it looks serene and beautiful in the darkness of the summer night
the sand isn’t as scorching as usual and the waves only kiss the shore slightly
you and him walk down toward it - feet reaching just the edge before you run back to avoid getting wet
juyeon laughs and runs toward you, strong arms picking you up and before you know it, you’re up in the air and dangling above the water
you’re telling him to not let you go, no matter what and juyeon is chuckling promising over and over he won’t he won’t
i will never let you go
your laughing and playing around leaves you breathless, when you and juyeon lay back down on the sand and stare up at a starless sky
just that summer moon glistening down on you both
“why did you become a lifeguard by the way?” you ask - just to break the comfortable silence
“because i love the ocean, but know it can be a scary place too.”
you turn to look at his profile, even more perfect inches away
“i like that about it, that it’s both beautiful and a little dangerous. i like things that have that duality.”
“so you must like love too?”
you don’t even mean to say it, it simply slips from your lips and juyeon turns to face you
his smile turns to another expression, more earnest and soft
“yes, i do.”
you swallow, “ i do too, that’s why im looking for it.”
the silence that follows is coated with the midnight waves and insects that come out only in the warm months
before, when you couldn’t meet his gaze, you were just being shy and afraid
now you are vulnerable and staring back - deep into those darker than the earth browns when suddenly his large hand comes gently up to your waist
his eyes don’t leave yours, not until you’ve been pushed up flush against him in the sand and they close in time with yours as his lips ghost over yours
polite, without having to be, he whispers - can i? and you whisper back - you can.
the first kiss is chaste and pure, vanilla bean ice-cream flavored with a little speckle of a firework.
it’s after you breach this first step that you both decide you can do better than that.
juyeon pulls you ontop of him, rolling his back deeper into the sand as you sit up on his hips and push your hands into the flimsy fabric of his shirt
it gives way, off his broad shoulders and you lean down to press kisses down from the edge of his jawline to the curve of his long throat, and then down to his shoulders
the entire time, his large hands seize you in place by your waist, he makes sounds of wordless pleasure and when you bite down into that perfect skin of his you feel like you’re marking an untouched beauty
he runs one hand up to the back of your neck and he pulls you in back to his mouth
sitting up easily as his tongue runs across the seal of your lips, you get yourself comfortable in the crook of his lap - pressed to the bare skin of his chest
this kiss tastes of fiery spice, multiple fireworks - a whole parade
and when you grind down slightly juyeon makes an animalistic echo that runs from his lips to your spine and you think you could really just let him slip whatever you’re wearing off
but just as you separate to help him with the task, you hear the screech of a car pull up
“who is there? the beach is closed!”
you pull back off of juyeon and gather yourself up - juyeon jumps to his feet too and you turn to help him button his shirt back up so you two look like you haven’t just been making out for god knows how long
the voice calls again, “hey - you two - you know the beach is closed right!”
you see the officer’s figure and wave back
“oh we didn’t know! we’ll leave in a moment!”
the officer motions for you two to get back up to the street and you and juyeon try not to laugh as he lectures you two on public decency
after that, juyeon drives you back on his bike and although you are more than willing to invite him back inside with you, all you do is share another kiss on your doorstep
“i should at least take you on a date before, you know?”
he mutters against your lips and you roll your eyes - modesty in this day and age?
“fine, but after that we have all summer.”
and you do have all summer. despite the fact that half the towns population is seething with jealousy about it.
you have the entire summer to bask in the unfiltered, sweet, and hot like the sun romance you have wished for for so long
meeting up with juyeon after his shifts, taking bike rides to other towns, picnics, amusement parks, dates shopping because you need him out of that hawaiian shirt, and get togethers with your friends as everyone else who is coupled off sticks to their other half and you ......... you stick to yours, juyeon
little kisses before he has to go to work - little hand touches when you’re sitting around eric’s dinner table playing monopoly as chanhee schemes you all out of your properties - arm around your waist when you go out to dinner
and pressing close in the depths of his room or yours, the sound a symphony of little noises and the buzz of the fan on your naked skins
its a summer that you only thought was possible in a movie or at least in someone elses life, not yours
and when embarrassing tell juyeon about your theory that he’s the main character of a summer romcom blockbuster
he looks at you clearly and smiles, “and so are you - since you’re my love interest right?”
you feel a flush overtake you and you laugh, say something about how you’re not star quality, and juyeon just pulls you back into him
“what are you talking about, you’re the only star for me.”
and you don’t expect him to remember that little line all these years later
when you’re standing with your toes in the sand, back at the beach you and juyeon fell in love with so long ago
you point to the lifeguard chair and joke
“i used to watch you and think you belonged on baywatch or something - you know everyone was in love with you right?”
his hand is a comfortable, knowing weight on the curve of your waist
“well i was only in love with you.”
you scrunch your nose up and lean in to peck his lips
“that’s sweet.”
“i mean, you were the only star for me.”
you turn, juyeon’s face - still handsome even though more mature - seems to flash for a second with a look he had when you two were much younger
“the only star for me then and now.”
#happy bday zain!!!!!! i know you said to take a break but no im going to give you all the juyeon!!!!!!!!1#also shout out to bad bunnys el ultimo tour del mundo album for playing on loop while i write this#the boyz au#juyeon au#juyeon scenarios#the boyz scenarios#juyeon#tbz#tbz au#tbz scenarios#nostolgic au
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Hey! How about 113&90 or 133&68? Of course you can pick one or all or none, lol! I hope you're doing great!! 🤗🤗
Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending these!! I've gone ahead with 113 ("I prefer blondes") & 90 ("Trust me") and I have zero idea where this idea came from, but some of it made me laugh, so I hope you enjoy my attempt at humor!! 🤣 I had to make a special moodboard for this one, too. I hope you're doing well!!! 💛
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It was an ordinary day at the shop. Another day of people reminding her that she was stupidly alone and would probably never be the customer coming in to choose a nice, sexy piece for her (non-existent) partner or the girlfriend on the receiving end.
At least she had her work friends to complain to, although half of them were off the market, too. Dany never could figure out what it was about her that seemed to deflect men rather than attract them to her. Doreah had promised that, objectively speaking, Dany didn’t suffer from resting bitch face. Missandei proclaimed that she was just so beautiful, it was intimidating. Val added onto that, saying that most probably assumed she was already spoken for.
She was in the back room double checking inventory when Doreah all but broke the swinging door down, hissing her name. “Dany! He’s back!”
“Who?” Frowning, it took Dany a second to understand who she meant. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Doreah, he very clearly had a girlfriend the last couple of times he was in.”
The least she could do was not drool atop their merchandise over a man who was probably trying to help his girlfriend spice things up in the bedroom. While it was a little unusual that there had been so frequent of visits within a short span of time - four times in two weeks, not that she was paying that close attention - there was no point in making it extra awkward for everyone.
He was extremely pleasing to look at, and yes, behind the scenes she had suggested to the girls some explicit things she might like to do with him if ever she had the chance, but a fifth return said something was either working or very much...not. The last thing she wanted to do was verbalize one of those thoughts she may or may not had fantasized about once or twice or...more. She would fire herself on the spot.
“In the last three years in this hell, how many times have you seen the girlfriend hang around outside of the store while her boyfriend does all the perusing?”
Dany shrugged, checking off a few boxes on her clipboard while she hooked several pairs of silky lace panties through her arm to help her keep count. “I don’t know, maybe that’s their thing? Maybe he surprises her and they have perfect, steamy sex.”
The first time he came in, the brunette woman joined him. He looked completely lost and overwhelmed by it all, and on at least two occasions he had locked eyes with Dany when she was trying to discreetly check him out. Mortified at how red his face had turned, she had busied herself rearranging their fragrances that hadn’t needed arranging. There had been some giggling and the woman had squeezed his arm, and Dany tried to avoid having to help them as much as possible, and that included each subsequent appearance after that, even when the brunette kept to herself outside the store. To the point where Dany put Val on the floor so that she could sit back and just ogle him guiltlessly.
Dany saw the way his girlfriend peeked in, beaming at him, probably trying to get a feel for what he would bring home that evening.
“Right, well plot twist: he has asked for you,” Doreah jabbed her finger into Dany’s back.
Spinning around on her heel, her braid whipping around her shoulders, Dany fumbled over her words. “No-no he did not! He doesn’t even know my name.”
“Obviously not!” Doreah chortled, then took hold of Dany’s shoulder with a shake. “He asked for a blonde, and when I pointed to Val, he said - and I quote - ‘the one with the blue eyes’.”
Dany blinked, her inhale suddenly hostage in her chest, shaking her head vehemently. “No, he’s definitely confused - it can’t be the same guy-”
“Get your cute little arse out there and find out for yourself, then!”
Just as pugnacious as she was when she came in to deliver the news, Doreah spun Dany around and forced her back into the main floor. She yiped and instantly wished a sink hole would appear under her feet and take her under, what with the obnoxious entrance she’d just made, the door smacking against the wall and every set of eyes boring into her.
Including his.
Doreah would not live to see another day after today.
Quietly, she cleared her throat, while everyone else went back to their browsing, but for the man who was the subject of her favorite dreams as of late. He turned to face her fully, still at the other end of the store across from her, and he fit his hands into his overly-tight jean pockets. A smile spread across his face, and stupidly, she looked over her shoulder, just to confirm that Doreah hadn’t been behind her. And finally, the cherry on top of the cake was when his eyes then drifted down to her arm, where she still had a whole armful of panties still attached.
Bleeding hells!
Hastily she yanked the door open behind her, Doreah right there and proud of herself, Dany stuffed her clipboard and the pile of undergarments into the woman’s arms. “I hope you enjoy your last few hours alive!” Dany whispered harshly, but that only made her friend splutter with joy.
Going back out, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands in front of her before approaching the obscenely attractive man. She couldn’t help but quickly sweep the area with her eyes just to be sure he wasn’t in other company. There didn’t appear to be anyone outside the open doors, either.
She stopped in front of him, and was horrified to discover, at the most inconvenient moment, that she didn’t know what words were. Her private dreams and distant stalking did not do him justice.
“Hello,” he supplied first.
For a beat, her mouth hung open without a sound until she finally managed, “Hi.”
“So-”
“I heard-”
She grit her teeth together and her cheeks lit on fire, the pair of them laughing awkwardly and immediately averting their eyes to anything but each other.
At the very least, it broke some of the tension. Dany gestured with her hand at the wall behind him, where various colorful, matching sets of lingerie were displayed. “Did you need help finding something?”
“Ah,” he sucked in a breath, briefly following the motion to see what she was referring to, but quickly looked back at her, hand scratching his head, “well, yeah, sort of...I, uh,” he cleared his throat gently. She was glad to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, but it was making her anxious, so she took matters into her own hands.
“Might I suggest the purple?” She crossed the floor to one of their mannequins donning one of their more flimsy pieces, silky and shiny bra and the thong to match. With one hand palm up, she tried to gauge his reaction as she pointed it out to him. “It compliments brown hair and fair skin quite nicely.”
His dark brow wrinkled a little, but he followed her, stopping a few feet away and not paying the fiberglass model any mind. Maybe they were fighting...so she had a better idea.
She thrust her finger up in the air to stop him from needing to explain any further, beckoning for him to follow her. They stopped, now, at something a bit more complicated, a red number where the lace bra barely covered the breasts and had a strap that wound around the neck and connected to the middle between the breasts. The panties were attached to a garter and stockings.
This time around, he flushed adorably, and she stored that away in her mind for later. If there was to be any joy found in this encounter, it might be so that she could torture his bashfulness.
“Actually...I’m...not here to shop for anyone else,” he explained, and slowly, she understood, nodding slowly, her mouth forming an ‘o’. Their bed play included some form of role reversal. She wasn’t here to judge anyone’s kinks, or preferences, not especially working for a lingerie shop. And, if it turned out that she was wrong, and perhaps he wasn’t into the ladies at all, at least she knew she never had a chance to begin with.
“Ooh, I see. Well, unfortunately we don’t have anything marketed towards men’s fashions right at this time-” an idea she needed to propose to their marketing and product team, “-but I’m sure we could find something that fits your fancy?”
Dany freely let herself measure him by way of a quick observation - he wore a fitted black tee, so it wasn’t difficult to see that he kept in great shape. Broad, muscled shoulders, biceps fighting to stay within the confines of the short sleeves, lean compact perfection. His thighs? Thick. Great for getting ones’ head trapped between. Uncaring as to what was left of her professional decency, she grabbed his arm to keep him still and rounded him, almost forgetting herself too much and just barely biting her tongue to not whistle. His ass? Perseus could never.
Just as she was moving to guide him toward another area with slightly larger sizes that could accompany his physique, a hand gently caught her wrist, and it was gone in the next breath, but she stopped, facing him once more. He’d stepped in closer, almost invading her space. “No, it’s not any of that,” he chuckled lightly. Then he word vomited, and she didn’t think he could possibly get any more chart-breaking attractive, but she was certain her eyes had shaped themselves into hearts. “Ah, fuck. I’m just gonna say it. I saw you in here a few weeks ago when I was here - I never come to the mall by the way, just...anyway, no offense. I stopped and I was with my sister-in-law and she told me I should try to chat you up...but I thought, who in their right bloody mind casually drops into a sexy lingerie store to hit on someone?”
He huffed dubiously, but she was half in love with him already.
“So, I bowed out like a coward, but obviously I kept coming back, and Margaery - that’s my sister-in-law, the brunette - tagged along for moral support, while I was pretending to be interested in…,” he looked about them by way of explaining, “I mean, not that I’m not - in fact, I am-”
Her toothy grin was so large by now that it actually hurt. Charmingly he rumpled up his face and scratched the back of his neck, then brought both of his hands in front of him and accentuated the space there as he made a go of it again. “What I’m desperately trying to say, and failing at, is...would it be super weird to ask you out? It’s so shallow, I know, and completely not like me; you’re just so beautiful and I know nothing about you-”
Dany couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed him, and he gasped through his nose, frozen in place for a beat until he finally relaxed and put a careful hand on her hip, leaning closer to her. She broke away, the taste of cinnamon lingering on her tongue, either from a mint or gum he must have just had. Peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she just needed to be sure…
“You’re sure that wasn’t your girlfriend with you?”
His head nodded once to punctuate his reply. “Positive. She’s my brother’s wife. And...I much prefer blondes, anyway. Trust me.”
“Okay,” she muttered, putting a little space between them, and going warm all over when she remembered where they were, and how about the entire store was putting their heads together and giggling and staring. “I have…,” she glimpsed at her watch, her heart sinking, “...three hours left.”
“I can wait,” he said, and when she was beginning to think he meant he would have the audacity to wait in here and distract her, he clarified, “I mean, I have some errands I can run, and then…?”
“I don’t even know your name,” she blurted with realization.
“Oh, right,” he chuckled, “it’s Jon.”
“Dany,” she returned, holding out her hand. He shook it with a gentle squeeze. After they took their hands back, she made sure nobody was within earshot when she closed in on him again. “Then it’s a date. Under one condition…”
His clear grey eyes narrowed down at her.
“Which one?” Her dark brows jumped and she clandestinely used her eyes to motion to the items on display.
“What? Wait…,” his voice lowered to a rumble, lips barely moving, “seriously?”
Gods, if he only knew the images that she had conjured up in her mind pre-meeting…
“Mhm,” she hummed.
“Uh…,” he was good, very good, as he pretended that he was carrying on a conversation with her while his hand scratched his bearded face, trying to make a hurried decision. She saw the glint in his eye when he had decided, never taking her attention off of him. His gaze dropped down to her lips before drifting back to her eyes. “Third rack by the front…,” she gave a secretive, sidelong look in that direction, “the fourth row down in the second column. Yellow.”
Her eyes widened a hair. “Oh,” she breathed, her chest going tight. It was one of those numbers that, when not on a hanger or mannequin, was difficult to figure out how to get on, but it was a good thing this was her expertise. She swallowed thickly. “May I ask...why yellow?”
Jon reddened exquisitely. “Well... the last time I was here, one of your colleagues was heavily suggesting the best colors that complimented blue eyes, so…,” to her surprise, he skimmed her thumb over the apple of her cheek, just under her blue eyes.
Doreah. That sneaky little shit. It was a script they sometimes followed when a guest first came in, a starting point to help guide them in the right direction and ease nerves, but this was deliberate.
Dany owed Doreah an extra life, now.
“Alright,” she conceded, beaming. “See you at five?”
Jon smirked. “See you at five.”
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Name
A year ago today, after a few months of lurking on Ao3 and Tumblr and reading without an account, I posted my first fic. I don’t know what possessed me to start writing. I think I was so desperate for some sort of creative outlet in the monotony of quarantine life that when I got an idea, I wrote it down. And here I am a year later, still writing, though not as frequently as I’d like. Thank you @thedistantdusk, queen beta, for all your help. To all the funny, lovely people I’ve “met” on Discord, thanks for brightening the past year. And thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fics. I truly appreciate you all!
A little (belated) Harry birthday fic below the cut or on Ao3
For many years, Harry hated summer. Summer was loneliness and boredom, monotony punctuated by growls from his stomach or his aunt’s shouts. Summer was endless daylight that stretched and languished well into the night, mocking him, a prisoner in his bedroom with barred windows. Summer meant isolation, locked doors, tossing and turning alone under damp, sticky sheets.
But what he once loathed had now become his favorite season, when three weeks ago, on the terrace of their garden, under the orange glow of the evening summer sun, he’d dropped to one knee, and with shaking hands, asked Ginny to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, yet part of him still couldn’t believe it- that after everything, horcruxes and hallows, Voldemort and the Forest, she would be walking down the aisle not to a faceless stranger, but to him.
In their bed later that evening, after a round of private celebration, the sheen of sweat still clinging to their bodies, she’d told him of her idea. A wedding at the Burrow, just family and close friends, and a surprise to all but a handful, planned under the guise of her birthday party. It would keep the press from getting wind of it, she’d said, and with the ink barely dry on Rita Skeeter’s latest “expose” (Ginny plying Harry with love potions in an effort to force him to propose), he’d thought it was a brilliant plan. And secretly, Harry thought that the limited window for Molly to fuss over wedding preparation was a bonus.
“Do you think it’s crazy?” she’d asked, as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. “I know it’s barely a month away.”
“No,” he said, turning his head to kiss her bare shoulder, “I’m chuffed that you can’t wait to marry me, actually.”
She grinned at him, her smile bathed in moonlight. “Afraid I’ll change my mind if we wait too long?”
“Well, love potions don’t last forever, you know. And one of these days I may slip up and forget to put it in your tea.”
“No, no- you’ve got it all wrong,” she teased, jabbing him with her finger. “I’m the one who's dosing you, remember?”
“Ah, but Rita Skeeter never gets it right, you know that,” he replied, smirking at her through the darkness.
She’d thrown her head back as she laughed, that beautiful sound echoing in the stillness, then kissed him again, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten this lucky.
And now, three weeks later, on the morning of his birthday, still enjoying the glow of their secret engagement, he sat on the sofa leafing through the sports pages of the paper when Ginny’s voice rang out from upstairs.
“Harry, will you come up here for a moment?”
“Be right up,” he called back. Assuming it was something to do with the wedding, he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.
Ginny stood near the foot of the bed, wearing only a Harpies jersey, her long hair swept over one shoulder, the bare skin of her other shoulder peeking out on the other side. The jersey was clearly his, as it hung on her like a dress, ending just below her bum, revealing almost all of her legs. At the sight of her, his eyes went wide and his jaw slackened instantly.
She grinned at his reaction. “Happy birthday.”
“I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes trailing down her legs, the creamy skin peppered with freckles.
She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. “I’m wearing your present,” she said, and he could tell that she was trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her hand lightly down his chest, pausing tantalizingly over the waistband of his joggers. “But I thought you’d prefer to unwrap it this way.”
“You thought right.”
He kissed her softly, his lips sliding over hers, his hands cradling her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips moving to graze the shell of her ear, “I’ve been needing a new one, the old one is looking a bit worn.”
Before he could begin to move his lips down her neck, she pulled back slightly. She looked up at him, still grinning, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. “That wasn’t why I got it for you.”
“Well, you know I’ve got a thing for you in your uniform,” he replied, leaning down for another kiss, but she put her hand lightly on his chest to stop him.
“I know- but that isn’t why either.” Her smile was so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was clearly enjoying this.
“I got it because…” She paused as she took a step back, positively beaming at him now. “You’ll be needing a jersey with my new name.”
At that, she turned so her back was facing him. And there, in bold, gold letters, the name POTTER was emblazoned above Ginny’s number.
He was stunned. They’d never discussed Ginny changing her name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the whirlwind weeks of their engagement. He’d simply assumed, given her career (not to mention her fierce sense of independence) that she would keep hers. It certainly didn’t matter to him- she’d said yes to marrying him, that was all that was important.
“Surprised?” Ginny asked.
“I, erm… yeah,” he replied, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced to try to process it all.
For the first eleven years of his life, his name was delightfully ordinary. His aunt once said his name was common , the word dripping with disdain, as if it was the most grievous insult she could bestow. Her implication aside, it was true that his name wasn’t unusual. There was another Harry in his primary school. He’d seen other Potters, too. Once in the clinic, the nurse called out for “Mr. Potter,” and an elderly man rose as Harry stood. After the man smiled kindly at him and shuffled into the corridor, he’d asked Petunia innocently if the man was a relative. In response, she’d scoffed and told Harry that if he had other relatives, he certainly wouldn’t be living with her.
When he entered the wizarding world, his name ceased to be ordinary, transformed, like everything in his life, on that fateful day of his eleventh birthday. From then on, his name was notorious. It was whispered unsubtly as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was splashed across headlines in the Prophet. It was jeered by Death Eaters. Far too often, it was said with a reverence that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.
The thought of Ginny taking his name, and all that came with it, overwhelmed him. A lump began to form in his throat. He swallowed quickly, trying to compose himself, not wanting to ruin the moment.
“Love- are you all right?” she said, turning back around to face him.
“I… yeah,” was all he could manage, his voice cracking.
She placed her arms around him gently, waiting for him to continue.
“I’m just s-surprised,” he stammered. “We hadn’t talked about it, and Hermione’s always going on about how it’s sexist that the woman is expected to take the man’s name. And you’ve worked so hard to make a name for yourself in Quidditch. And you know, er, feminism and all…” He trailed off, aware he was rambling.
She smiled, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him. “Well first, Hermione’s right. It is sexist that it’s assumed that a wife will take her husband’s name. But I think it’s quite clear from your reaction that you didn’t expect me to or assume I would. Right?” She raised her brow.
“Of course I didn’t. It’s fine if you want to keep yours, really.”
“But I don’t,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Plus, I think there’s plenty of Weasleys to carry on the family name without me, yeah?”
“I know, it’s just…” He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. “My name- it’s a lot. And I’d understand if you didn’t want to take that on.”
She slipped her arms around him again, pulling herself to him until she was flush to his chest. “Harry,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice reverberating on his chest, “we’ve been together since I was fifteen. I understand everything that comes with the name Potter. And that’s why I want to do this, why I’m choosing to do this- I thought it might be nice if you had someone, family, to share that with. I think that sometimes it's lonely for you, being the only Potter, and I never want you to feel alone.”
She hugged him tightly. He inhaled, his breath shaky, as he let himself sink into her embrace. Seeing her in that jersey, knowing that she wanted to take his name, that they would be united together, permanently- he was overcome. He blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip, squeezing her back tightly, determined not to spoil the moment.
As his racing heart slowed and he composed himself, he gently tipped her chin up to look at her.
“Gin,” he said, his tone soft and earnest, “I’d love nothing more than to share my name with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. We could double-barrell, if you wanted-“
She rolled her eyes, “I’d prefer if our children didn’t sound like posh twats every time they introduced themselves, thanks.”
He laughed, then realized- “Our children?”
She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. “We have talked about that, you know.”
He felt as if he would burst from happiness. He leaned down and kissed her, trying with all his might to put into the kiss what he couldn’t find the words to say, to tell her, with his mouth and the trace of his tongue, how much this meant to him.
She sighed as they broke apart. “I take this to mean you’re happy that in a week I’ll be Ginny Potter?”
“Yes. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. Honestly, I’m so thrilled that you’re marrying me, it wouldn't matter what name you’d chosen.”
She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “In that case, I take it all back. I’m going by Ida.”
“Ida?”
“Yes, Ida Shaggem.”
He burst into laughter.
“No?” she feigned, mirth evident in her tone. “What about Anita Hardone?”
He was laughing so hard now that his shoulders shook.
Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip (he could tell she was trying very hard to keep from laughing). “Well then, I guess Ginny Potter it is.”
She burst into laughter and he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as he walked her backwards towards the bed, both of them still laughing, nearly breathless.
As they reached the end of the bed, her hands grasped the hem of the jersey to pull it off.
“Oh no,” he gasped, still trying to stop laughing. “You’re definitely leaving that on.”
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A Light From the Shadows Chapter 2- Wow! An Uncle?! Great! Oh No, Wait, he Sucks
A.N: Ahh, chapter 2!!!! I'm delighted to go deeper into Aeri's story, and I hope you guys are too. Thank you for your lovely responses to chapter 1!
Warnings: Descriptions of blood, torture
A Light From the Shadows Masterlist
Read on AO3, WATTPAD
*********
Aeri was five, feeling the tickles of the grass brushing her feet as she sped across the meadow, running as fast as she could. Footsteps pounded behind her as Eddard chased her. She ran as fast as she could, short legs pumping as she leaped over a log and ducked around a tree, rounding the trunk to find Eddard smiling at her. He grabbed her and hugged her.
Calenglîn watched from the porch, smiling, as her husband grabbed their daughter, tossing her up in the air, the sounds of his hearty laugh and her giggles drifting on the wind. Eddard threw Aeri over his shoulder as she watched, marching them back towards her.
Eddard turned when they’d reached the porch, showing his wife the grinning face of the child slung over his shoulder.
“Look what I caught!” he told his wife.
She laughed, springing off the porch and grabbing Aeri from his shoulder. Calenglîn set her daughter down, gesturing for her to run.
“Go, Aeri!”
Aeri sprinted away again, and Eddard moved to chase her, but was tackled by his wife. They tumbled into the grass together, Calenglîn giggling as she fell on top of him. Eddard gazed into her eyes, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face, and kissed her.
“Ew,” Aeri, jealous that no one was paying attention to her anymore, had doubled back to see her parents kissing in the grass.
Eddard chuckled at his daughter, Calenglîn laughing with him as she rolled off and sprawled next to him. She shifted slightly further apart, and gestured to Aeri.
“Come here.”
Aeri did, snuggling in between her parents as they lay in the meadow, watching the clouds roll through the sky above.
Eddard sprawled into the long green grass, Aeri next to him, both of them laughing.
Aeri jolted awake, eyes opening to complete darkness. She blinked, trying to see anything in pitch-black but couldn’t. She shifted, something like stone digging into her back, and something brushed against her wrist.
Aeri tugged at it and realized it was a rope, binding her down. Wiggling her legs, she noted that her entire body was bound down to the stone. She was trapped.
A crushing feeling of hopelessness set in as the memories flooded back. She remembered her parents’ frantic voices as they prepared to leave the cabin, the panic and despair in their eyes as they shut the door for the last time. She remembered their urging for her to abandon them, her frantic flight through the forest, their screams ringing out in the air, the fact that they were-
Dead.
Killed by her uncle.
Aeri tugged harder at the ropes binding her, trying to get free, struggling, pulling wherever she could.
A scraping sound suddenly rang out, and footsteps padded into what she could only assume was her cell.
“Hello, Aerinithil,” a voice rang out into the darkness, “I’m your Uncle Rhugar.”
“I know who you are, you traitor,” Aeri spat.
“Ah yes,” said Rhugar. “But do you know who you are?”
Aeri shifted, trying to face in the direction he was, the sound of his footsteps circling around her reminding her of the hawks she watched as a child, circling before diving down for the kill.
The sound of a blade being drawn rang through the room, and Aeri tensed.
And then suddenly, a little light was let into the chamber and she could see Rhugar hovering above her, knife in his hand gleaming despite the darkness. Rhugar drew closer, knife in his hand still gleaming despite the shadows in the room.
He drew closer, and closer, until he was right above her, knife pointed towards her. Aeri took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever came next.
Rhugar brought the knife down.
Aeri screamed.
She screamed as the burning knife carved a path of horror into her skin, traced its terrible trail all over her breaking body. She couldn’t bear it, the pain was boring its way into every inch of her, hammering on her insides, crushing her down further and further- until everything faded into black as her mind tried to escape from it all.
Aeri was seven, in her father’s arms, meeting her mother’s family for the first time. The tall, regal elves overshadowed even Eddard, and it was the first time Aeri thought her father was small.
She was passed from elf to elf, saying hello and trying not to get too overwhelmed by it all. She somehow made her way back to father, who put her down.
“Go find your mother, Aeri,” Eddard told her, so Aeri tried.
She wove through the elves, trying not to trip on anything or anyone until she bumped into a tall elf with eyes just like hers.
He looked down at her with a smirk. “Hello, Aerinithil.”
“How do you know my name?”
He knelt, suddenly looking her in the eyes, “I’m your Uncle Rhugar.”
Aeri had told him that he looked like her mother, at which he smiled, and then moved on. She wanted to see her father again, the only other person who felt as out of place as she did, so she set off, weaving through legs and ducking behind skirts.
She reached the railing of the terrace they were, on, and turned. And then she stopped.
An extremely tall elf was facing her, blonde hair in waves that reached down her back, a circlet crowning her head. Ancient blue eyes stared into Aeri’s, as they stood there.
“Wait for the sword that was broken,” Galadriel spoke into Aeri’s head.
Aeri blinked at her in confusion. “What sword?”
“You’ll know.” And with that the blonde elf with eyes older than Arda swept back into the crowd, elves parting around her like the sea as she walked.
Wait for the sword that was broken.
The next thing Aeri knew, she was bleeding on the same stone table that she’d been so brutally cut open on the night before. Blinking her eyes open, she again couldn’t see a thing, wrapped in that overwhelming darkness.
The scrape of metal against stone rang out once more, and Aeri lifted her head. Rhugar was silhuotted in the murky light at the doorway, a shadow perfectly tracing the scar on his face. He padded into the cell, eerily not making a sound as he walked. Behind him followed an orc, with something cradled in his arms.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Rhugar said.
He walked over and kicked Aeri, knocking the breath out of her chest before strolling back, nonchalantly like he hadn’t just hurt his niece again, and took the thing from the arms of the orc.
Aeri sucked in a breath of shock at the sight. Rhugar held an elf in his arms. Her face was bruised and bleeding, blood covering her fine clothes, and she was clearly unconscious.
“Say hello to your new neighbor.” Rhugar held the unconscious elf up, then threw her into the cell next to Aeri’s, her body crumpling onto the floor.
With that, Rhugar walked back over to Aeri, kneeling beside her. His red hair fell over his forehead, casting his face into darker shadow, his gleaming blue eyes contrasting with the bright hair as the only two spots of color in the room.
“And niece?”
Aeri stared up at him, paralyzed with terror of the man she remembered so fondly from her childhood.
“You are a blight upon the world and blemish upon the elves. You do not matter, to anyone.”
Rhugar leaned down to her ear, and she could feel the brush of his hair against her head.
“You are worthless.”
Rhugar drew back his fist, and Aeri tensed, cringing away from the blow she now knew to expect. He brought it down, striking her cheek, knocking her head back into the cold stone floor. Her face throbbed, head pounding, but she clenched her fists and willed herself not to cry.
He rose, wiped the blood from his knuckles onto his tunic, and left, the cell door screeching shut behind him.
Aeri lay there, broken on the floor, encased in total darkness, barely there anymore. She felt a shadow, a wisp of darkness brush her face, whispering as it covered her. The other shadows did the same, murmuring over her broken body as they patterned her skin.
The shadows whispered to her, tried to break her, but they couldn’t.
Aeri started to learn their language. And as they whispered, murmuring darkness, she began to whisper back.
*******
A.N: OHHHHH BOY! Stuff is HAPPENING!! Anyone have any guesses on who the mystery prisoner is? Or what’s going on with Aeri at the very end? I’d really love to hear all your thoughts!!
Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny
ALFTS tag: @lothloriien
@laurfilijames i can’t remember if you asked to be on the taglist or not and i can’t find the post, but let me know and i can totally remove your tag!
#alfts#a light from the shadows#aeri#aerinithil#aragorn fanfic#aragorn#aragorn x aeri#aeri x aragorn#aragorn/aeri#lord of the rings#the hobbit#jrr tolkien#maiawrites#TA 2509#dol guldur#mirkwood#middle earth#arda#aragorn x oc#aragorn x original character#original character#calenglîn x eddard#eddard#calenglîn#rhugar
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innocence - 26
PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader
WARNINGS: none
A/N: no smut this time, just bucky meeting the family
NEXT CHAPTER
Her mother pulled Bucky into the house. She lived exactly where he’d expect her to live in, a dark academia sort of environment in shades of green, burgundy and dark browns. The walls were filled with shelves containing seas and seas of books and little memorabilia. There were photos of the family on the walls and Bucky noticed the little one right by the staircase of a young girl in a periwinkle dress sat on the beach with a bright smile whom he was absolutely certain was his Y/N. The woman continued to lead them until what he guessed was the living room where the fireplace was on and two kids were running around.
Bucky stood behind with Y/N as her mother made haste towards the drinks’ trolley where Y/N was almost sure the same watered down bottle her brother Anthony had constantly stolen from as a teenager still stood. They were lucky enough not to still have been noticed, her family having an weirdly tradition of not allowing anyone in the living area until they had a drink in hand. Of course she knew why, her family made so many questions both appropriate and inappropriate you’d have to be positively inebriated to deal with it.
- Everyone... - Lucy, Y/N’s mother, handed Bucky a burgundy coloured liquid before pulling him inside the living room. - Don’t be shy, Bucky. Everyone, this is Bucky, he’s Y/N’s boyfriend.
- I thought he’d be smaller. - a man got up from the dark burgundy couch, walking up to Bucky with an extended hand towards him. Bucky looked at his hand then at his own, before switching to shake it with his flesh arm rather than the metal aberration he’d covered with a glove. - Had a nice flight? Little bean here said she booked first flight tickets even though I told her it’s ...
- A waste of money, I know dad. - Y/N interrupted.
- It was nicer than I expected, sir. - Bucky said yet Y/N could see that little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - Your daughter made it all the better.
- Hope she didn’t bother you with leitmotifs. - another man who looked just around Y/N’s age piped up.
- Colin, don’t even say that word, it might get her started. - a girl, blonde hair dressed in a baby blue dress added. - Oh wow, you’re athletic.
- C’mon El, you promised to help me tease Y/N about her first serious boyfriend. - Colin wrapped his arms around Y/N but she merely playfully slapped his chest. - Look at you, the last Y/L/N sibling to introduce someone to the family. We were gonna buy you a cake but mum said no.
- Colin Y/L/N, leave your sister be. - Lucy slapped her son’s head. - We are very happy that Y/N and Bucky are here.
- She’s happy there’s a chance you might give her grandchildren. - Colin whispered before adopting that grin that as children made Y/N want to throw a pillow at him.
- Colin, I said to leave your sister be. - Lucy wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. - That is not the reason I’m happy you’re dating. Me and your father were just afraid that you would be a bit lonely in New York.
- Because you have no friends. - Eloise added.
- Eloise, leave your sister be. She has plenty of friends. - their father added, not moving from his chair where he had returned to read the paper.
- Where is your sister? She should be here to meet Bucky.
- Claire is busy with her husband convincing my husband to get me to have a rat-like creature they call a baby. - Eloise sat down on the other couch, legs crossed over each other. - Do you want a baby, Bucky?
- Eloise! - Y/N yelled out of shame. Now she understood why her mother looked so dead whenever she had to go shopping with 4 children at 10 AM. She was clearly wrong to think her siblings would act like regular human beings in front of a guest, they barely acted like regular human beings on a regular basis. - We should go put the bags in my bedroom.
- No, wait, beanie. CLAIRE! CLAIRE COME SAY HI TO YOUR SISTER AND BUCKY! - Y/N’s mother rushed to the kitchen, yelling out whom he guessed was the name of Y/N’s last sibling. Out of the kitchen and into the living room came a girl dressed in the same dress as Eloise except it was purple, holding a bundle of blankets against her chest.
- Aw, let me hold Sophie. - Y/N dropped her bags to meet her sister who handled her the baby. Bucky inspected the scene, watching as her embarrassed facade quickly changed into one of wonder as she looked at her niece. - Look at you, you’re so cute, Miss Sophie, yes you are.
- Claire, say hi to Bucky.
- Why is he so tall? - she shook his hand. - I thought you’d be smaller with that nickname.
Is this was Steve felt like after the serum? Bucky had never stopped to consider that maybe his nickname sounded like a name you’d give a short guy, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember how it came to be, he just remembered his mum calling it and it sticking. However, he did have to admit that he enjoyed seeing everyone’s confused look once they met him as if he was the tallest man alive when he was barely taller than Y/N’s brother.
- Conor, Jack come meet Bucky too. - Y/N’s mum held two men by the arm who looked as lost in the family reunion as Bucky did. - Conor’s Eloise’s husband and Jack’s Claire’s.
- Okay. - Y/N interrupted before anyone else told her boyfriend he was too tall. Handing Sophie back to her sister, she held Bucky’s hand. - We are going to put the bags upstairs and take the coats off and we’ll return.
Y/N knew her family way too well. She had been here when Claire brought Jack home for the first time and her father questioned him about a notorious case followed by Colin asking him if he needed earbuds for Claire’s snoring. She had also been there when Conor and all of Colin’s girlfriends so she knew when it was time to run away with Bucky from her very devoted and very curious family who had already decided to have the baby conversation with him before she had even mention it.
Bucky looked at the photos that were scattered on the staircases’ wall. He could always pinpoint where Y/N was, normally in the front with those beautiful, shining eyes. He noticed one particular photo of Y/N alone against a dark blue background in her graduation gown holding her diploma, posing like a beauty queen. He made a note to sneak a photo of it once she wasn’t looking.
She led him into her bedroom. It was a rather small one in tones of white and beige with a double bed. The walls were clean rather than one with a bookcase of dark wood filled with books, trophies and little frames of photos of her as a kid. Her bed had a small white lamb laying on it with some heart shaped pillows and a knitted beige blanket.
- Is that you? - Bucky rushed to the shelf to grab a photo of Y/N as a toddler dressed as a ballerina holding a golden medal.
- Yeah. My grandmother was a prima ballerina so she made all of us do ballet which came quite in handy when I was in Phantom. - she put her coat on the hook on the door. - Sorry about my mum, and my dad and my siblings. I should already apologise for their husbands and the toddlers you haven’t met yet since they’re out with Grandma Louis who I’m also sorry for.
- That’s fine. I think they don’t hate me much.
- It’s better than when Colin introduced Kate, mum was so upset she didn’t speak to her. I would say they love you.
- So which one is the oldest? Is there an hierarchy I should know about?
- I’m the oldest then Colin, Claire and finally Eloise. Eloise got married first and then Claire and Colin is living la vie boheme.
- And you? - he wrapped his arms around her waist
- I’m the actress. Once Aunt Petunia or Grandma Louis gets here you’ll listen to the “the debate team champion becomes an actress kissing all those men and she’s still single” discussion. I also apologise for that in advance.
- Well but you are not single anymore. - Bucky leaned down to kiss her. - And I will allow you to parade me as your boyfriend. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
- Ah yes, my three time three-time boxing champion boyfriend.
- You’re not gonna drop that, aren’t you?
- What? It’s very alluring, gets me going.
- Is that why you gave me an handjob at the airport, princess? - he leaned down to whisper against her ear. She felt goosebumps raise up her skin, mouth drying up as she tried to find the words. - You better have thick walls, princess.
- Beanie ... - her mother knocked on the door, pushing the door slightly open and sticking her head in. - We were wondering if Bucky ate meat. We bought this meat that’s not really meat and it’s vegan. I asked some of my colleagues at work to help me cook it and we made some but we can make more if Bucky wants some.
- No, Mrs. I’m okay with anything, it’s fine.
- Non sense. Y/N tell Bucky he can pick what to eat. You’re American right? I’m making some chicken nuggets for the kids and Colin, I could make you some if you’d like.
- Mum, that’s stereotypical.
- Nonsense, beanie. What do you want to eat, Bucky?
- I’ll eat whatever Y/N does, m’am. - he tried to hide the little grin as Y/N stood by his side still processing what Bucky had just said to her. - It’s fine, m’am, really. I don’t want to be a bother, I’m so grateful you and your family are okay with having me for Christmas.
Lucy merely smiled at him as a way of saying it was no problem. Y/N knew her family, they adored to embarrass their children in front of their partners, lovers, and friends but they would adore whoever their children adored as if they belonged to the family since the dawning of time. The actress rose her head to look at her boyfriend, staring at the door like a fading vision on the desert, relaxed muscles and expression. Her hold on his hand strengthened as her head laid against his shoulder, laying a small kiss on the fabric of his shirt.
- Do you want to go downstairs? We can stay here for a few minutes before dinner.
- Yeah, princess. - he snapped himself out of his state, smiling down at his caring girlfriend before following her down the stairs.
Her family had a lot of photos, some on big frames on the wall and other small ones in coffee tables and other surfaces. He couldn’t help but look at them, watching Y/N through the ages and wondering how she was. She always had that look, that inner shyness and bright eyed appearance. Most photos were school photos with that dark blue background followed by a few backstage photos of her in elaborate stage makeup and costumes. Bucky wanted a photo of her, any photo of her, to have in his wallet. Not that he would forget what she looked like, he could never forget it but he wanted to. He wanted to look at her face whenever he paid for his coffee, show people when they asked about her, he guessed he wanted to have the same pride in showing his girlfriend his father had about showing his mother. He wanted a suburban existence, no more Winter Soldier, no more Avengers, just James Barnes. Yet, he also knew he did not deserve that. No, he had taken that structure from so many people he didn’t deserve it.
Once in the living room, there were more people, notably two kids running around the Christmas tree and two women sat by the beautifully placed table. He felt shy, not knowing exactly what to say, barely knowing these people.
- Ah, let me look at you. - one of the woman from the table got up and walked towards them. Bucky thought none of it, thinking it to be directed towards Y/N until the woman took him by surprise by cupping his face. - You’re just gorgeous. Nice eyes, strong features.
- Aunt Petunia! - Y/N took her aunt’s hands away from Bucky’s face. - Please.
- You know what they say about men with strong features, great lovers, great breeders.
- Oh my god. - that’s it, she was no longer going to have a boyfriend once she got back to New York. - Bucky, this is my aunt Petunia.
- Nice to meet you m’am. - Bucky extended his hand to her but the woman merely pushed him towards the table.
- I thought she was kidding when she said she was bringing someone home yet here you are. - she led both of them to side by side seats on the table. - So, Bucky have you meet Grandma Louis?
- I’m afraid not.
- Look ma, Y/N brought a boyfriend home.
- Can we please not treat this like a world limited event?
- Nope. - Colin sat next to Y/N. - I had a bet with Eloise you’d date a 50 year old librarian and I lost which is unfair because 100 year old soldier is almost the same.
- It’s not and you know it. - Eloise argued from the other side of the table. - How’s the movie, Y/N?
- It’s ... good. - she forced a smile, not wanting to show the same family who always wondered why unlike every of her siblings she, the debate captain and champion, had turned down the option to do Law and instead pursued an acting career. Did acting made her happy? Yes. Did the movie made her happy? No.
- She’s the best actress I have ever met and seen. - Bucky drew invisible circles over her palm. - Everyone’s always speechless during her takes.
- That’s my beanie, always the best at whatever she does. - Y/N’s father added. - Besides, one of us has to not be a lawyer. We’re starting to be known as the lawyer family.
- So Bucky, are you enjoying London? Have you ever been? - Claire asked while putting the bibs on her two toddlers who were still happily playing with toy cars on the table.
- Long time ago, it’s a bit different now.
- Y/N should take you to see the tree in Trafalgar, it’s absolutely stunning. - Lucy added. - It’s where her father purposed.
- It’s where everyone purposed in this family. We need a new tradition. - Colin rolled his eyes.
- If it were up to you, you’d purpose in a McDonalds after coming from the pub.
- Shut up, Eloise.
Bucky merely kept to himself during the dinner, replying to the questions that were thrown his way and laughing at the jokes. There was the odd questions every once and then which Y/N would normally reply to followed by telling him she was sorry which he found adorable. Normally it was him who was defensive over her, too defensive even and to see her take on the role warmed his heart. The dinner ran smoothly and soon everyone was sat on the couch by the fireplace. She was by his side, head on his shoulder as a It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television.
The night kept going in and in until everyone decided to climb up to their respective bedrooms. Y/N turned on the heating the moment she came in, stripping onto her own cozy red pyjamas while Bucky kept inspecting her room. She had a bunch of books and programs from various West End musicals as well as a few bits of Star Wars memorabilia scattered on the shelves and a Phantom of the Opera music box on her desk. What caught his attention was the tiny miniature of a white picked fence house on her bedside table. Had she been an avid miniature collector and he didn’t know about it?
- Hey, what’s this? - he pointed at the little house.
- Oh ... that.
- Is it a sore topic? I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to ...
- It’s okay, Bucky. - she smiled. - It’s just a silly thing from when I was a kid. I told my mum I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker and move into a white picket fence home and she bought me it. Then I just wanted the house as I grew up but hey I live in SoHo, the best I can do is get another one of those
- You want a white picket fence house?
- It’s silly. - she hide her head as a familiar heat climbed up to her cheeks. Bucky placed the miniature back where it was, walking up to her.
- It’s not silly. I like picket white fence houses too, princess.
- You do?
- Yeah. One of my cousins had one when I was a kid and I always envisioned one for myself.
- Did you?
- Yeah and then I met you and I thought screw the home, as long as I get to come home everyday to you we could be living in a cardboard home but if you want a white picked fence house than I’ll give you one.
- Buck ...
- I’m not kidding. - he smiled at her. - We’ll live wherever you’d like and every single day we’ll come back home to each other and I will pretend I’m not tired so I can stay up and look at you smiling at those TV show reruns you like so much.
- You like them too. - she added.
- Maybe but until then ... - he walked up to his bag removing an worn out big navy blue box. - You can have this.
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DRIVERS LICENSE; i
Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader
Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)
Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?
Word Count: 3.2K
Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention
A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry
“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”
You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.
Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.
It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame.
“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”
Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real.
Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back.
“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.
“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.
A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.
All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.
When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face.
The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.
[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..
User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.
Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.
That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that?
You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist.
Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.
Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.
It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.
After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.
Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that.
The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.
Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.
You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.
Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.
“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.
“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.
Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face.
“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.”
Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.
You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.
“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.
After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.
‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy.
“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.”
You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.
“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.
“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.
The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?
“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”
You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.
“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.
“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”
The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain.
Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager).
You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind.
“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’
“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”
He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.
“What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.
“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.
Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo.
Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu.
San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed.
As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face.
“Y/N?”
Shit. You cannot hide from this.
Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever.
Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.
“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.
“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.”
You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.
'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?”
Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect.
When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.
“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”
“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat.
Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long.
Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.
Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her.
“Iris?”
“Uh, no, Chris.”
“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?
“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”
“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”
“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.
“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”
“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”
“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.
“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”
“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.
“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”
Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.
“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.
“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.
“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”
“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.
“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”
This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?
“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”
Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”
“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.
“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”
Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.
That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.
It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–
Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.
“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”
“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.
“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.”
“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”
“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”
Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.
“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.
“Twelve months, then you’re free again.”
Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop.
“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”
#i'm sorry in advance#however thoughts are welcomed#skz chan#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#stray kids blurbs#stray kids scenarios#bang chan angst#stray kids imagines#skz blurbs#stray kids chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan imagines#bang chan blurbs#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you
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happy one-eleven!! four words: kanera, lost a bet.
Oh, heck yes!! Here it is, I hope you like it!!!
Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Word Count: 3,269
Tags/Warning: rated G (for a grotesque amount of Kanera jk there's no such thing)
This was why Hera didn’t typically get involved in bets. They rarely ended well, and she’d seen some bets her friends made go in some very crazy directions.
But this one had seemed relatively safe-- her friend, Ahsoka, had been racing against her brother Anakin to see who could drink the most shots of chocolate milk in sixty seconds. Hera had bet on Ahsoka, because she usually won this kind of thing.
However, halfway through, Anakin had started stealing the shot glasses Ahsoka had been about to drink out of, which resulted in Ahsoka throwing other shot glasses at Anakin, which resulted in him drenched in chocolate milk but victorious all the same.
And now Hera owed Omega, her best friend and roommate, a dare of some kind, and she was getting an increasingly bad feeling about what it would be.
“So what does this have to do with our bet?” she asked as Omega led her towards a nearby building. Even from a distance, Hera could tell it was some kind of bar. That, combined with the fact that Omega had convinced her to get dressed up in a dark blue dress (which she almost never wore). She had refused to wear high heels, however, or let down her hair, which she almost always wore woven into two braids. That was a bridge too far for her.
“You’ll see,” Omega said, her voice way too innocent for comfort. Hera flashed an inquisitive look at their other three companions, Ahsoka, and Merrin. Ahsoka gave a shrug.
“Search me. I’m just here to see the fruits of my loss.”
Hera let out a sigh as she followed Omega and the others into the bar. This is definitely not going to end well.
The bar was dimly lit, but fairly generic-looking, with tables scattered across the room and the bar to Hera’s right. The room was about half full, and there were four people working the bar.
One was an older man who was almost bald, with a neatly trimmed white beard, who was taking a customer’s order. A young woman a little older than Hera, with short dark hair, heavy eyeliner, and tan skin was wiping down the bar, ignoring the two men bickering at the end of the bar.
Hera’s gaze paused on the two men for a moment. One had short dark hair, combed neatly, and a seriously annoyed expression. The other man, on the other hand, had longer brown hair, his skin a light brown, and wore an easy smirk.
His eyes flicked up from his work and locked on her, and Hera realized she’d been staring, Feeling a flush working it’s way across her cheeks, she looked away as the older man finished with his order and caught sight of them. “Ah, Omega!” he said, his smile kind. “A pleasure to see you as always. How are your brothers?”
“Still unaware of the fact I came here on a date, thanks to you,” Omega said, giving him a grin. “By the way, these are my friends-- Ahsoka and Hera.”
“Lovely to meet you, madams,” Okadiah said, giving them a bow. “We’ll have someone to serve you in a moment-- is there anything any of us can get you for the time being?”
“I think we’ll be fine,” Hera said.
Okadiah nodded just as there was a crash on the far end of the bar, where the two men had been. Hera looked to see the short haired man doubled over with laughter as the one she’d caught herself staring at got to his feet, rubbing his head and directing a glare at his friend.
“You alright, Kanan?” Okadiah asked, a look of mild interest on his face.
Waving a hand, the man said, “Fine-- it’s not that funny, Dark!”
Dark didn’t seem to agree, judging by how hard he was laughing, but Omega was already looping her arm around Hera’s and leading her and the others over to a table before Hera could see what happened next.
They settled at a table, and the female bartender, who turned out to be named Trilla, came over and took their orders. No sooner had she returned to the bar than Omega turned to Hera.
“Good news-- I know what I’m daring you to do.”
“Reassuring,” Hera said, letting out a sigh. “Okay, let’s get it over with. What do you want me to do?”
“You know that bartender you were staring at? The one with the ponytail?”
“Wha-- I wasn’t staring at anyone.”
Merrin shook her head. “No, Omega’s right. You were staring.”
“Unhelpful,” Hera muttered, her face heating up again.
“Regardless,” Omega said, waving a hand airily. “I’m daring you to get his number.”
Hera’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?”
Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “Oh, this is SO worth losing to Skyguy for. You want Hera to ask out the bartender she thinks is hot?”
“I don’t!”
“You do,” Omega said.
Merrin let out a thoughtful noise. “He’s okay. I like Cal better.”
“Cal is literally your boyfriend, it would be weird if you didn’t,” Ahsoka pointed out. “Hera, you absolutely HAVE to do this. I’ve literally never seen you show interest in a guy before, and I’ve known you for three years now.”
“I agree,” Merrin said, nodding.
Hera let out a groan. “I-- you’re not letting me get out of this, are you?”
“Sorry,” Omega said, patting her on the arm. “But you owe me. These are just the cards you’ve been dealt.”
Sighing, Hera muttered, “You sound like one of your brothers.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
Clearing her throat, Ahsoka said, “Not to be the Skyguy, but stop stalling and get moving.”
“Fine.” Reluctantly, Hera got to her feet and headed over to the bar, determinedly trying not to think about the three other women watching her, or what she was about to do.
When she arrived at the bar, she realized that the other bartenders were gone, leaving only the guy with the ponytail-- Kanan?-- there. I’m not sure if this is better or worse. “Hi,” she said.
His gaze flicked to her, and his eyes widened a little at the sight of her. For a moment, he looked incapable of speech, and Hera frowned. “You okay?”
A very slight smile tugged at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Words fail me.”
This was… definitely not what Hera had been expecting. Before she could respond, the man said, “I’m Kanan.”
“I heard. Hera.” Hera offered her hand, and Kanan clasped it. His grip was firm, and something about the feeling of his skin against hers… Hera tried very hard not to turn red again.
“Nice to meet you, Hera,” he said with a smile. Releasing her hand, he leaned against the bar, propping his elbows on the surface as he faced her. “So. Be honest-- your friends dared you to come over here, did they?”
“What-- how--?” Hera stared at him, stunned.
Kanan shrugged lightly. “I have mad skills. Plus, I spotted Omega pointing over at us, and there were a lot of covert looks in our direction. Also, I recall her saying last time she was here that she had a friend she wanted to, uh, introduce me to.”
“You’re kidding,” Hera said, and Kanan shook his head. “Ugh, that is so typical-- how long has she been planning this?”
“Aren’t all of her brothers either currently or previously military?” Kanan pointed out. “Cause that’s definitely a yes.”
Letting out a long sigh, Hera muttered, “I can’t believe this.” Glancing at Kanan, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to involve you in all this.”
“I’ve been involved in way worse,” Kanan said breezily. “Give me the details. I’m invested at this point.”
Grimacing, Hera said, “Long story short, I lost a bet with Omega, and she gets to dare me to do whatever she wants. And in this case, that’s… getting your number.”
“High stakes,” Kanan said with a totally straight face, and Hera rolled her eyes at him.
“Don’t mock me, alright? I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”
“It makes sense,” Kanan said, holding up his hands. “I mean, I doubt you usually need to, all things considered.”
Hera’s eyebrows shot up. “What exactly does that mean?”
She saw Kanan pause and look briefly embarrassed. “Oh. Well, I mean, you’re pretty… wow. I assume you have to fight off guys with a stick.”
A wave of heat swept over Hera, and she glanced down, feeling an absurd smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty wow, huh?”
“Now who’s mocking?” Kanan grumbled, a grin crossing his face nonetheless. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, you know.”
Rolling her eyes, Hera said, “Oh, I’m sure. But-- no, actually. I don’t date a lot. From what I’ve heard, my strong personality and ability to actually do things for myself tends to scare some men off.”
“Only idiots,” Kanan said, shooting her a grin that shouldn’t have made Hera’s heart skip a beat. But here they were, and she couldn’t help but notice how little space was between them. He was close enough that she could clearly see the bright teal of his eyes as they caught hers for a long moment.
“I’ve got an idea,” he told her, and moved back and away from her. Hera felt a moment of unreasonable disappointment, and hastily brushed it away. Don’t be stupid, Hera. Turning her attention back to Kanan, she saw him grab a pen and a paper coaster and scribble something on the back of it. “Here’s my number-- but I propose a bet.”
“I’ve already been tricked into one bet,” Hera pointed out, folding her arms. “Why on earth would I agree to this one?”
“Because I’ll give you my number either way,” Kanan said, sliding her the coaster. “Rules are simple. We stay here and talk for as long as possible. Whoever’s friends get curious and come to nose into our business first, wins. If you win, you obviously get my number, and I’ll pay for your whole group’s drinks and meals.”
“And if you win?” Hera asked, intrigued despite herself.
“I get to take you out to dinner,” Kanan said, a satisfied grin stretching across his face. “Somewhere a lot nicer than here, I promise you. Deal?”
Hera hesitated. Last time she'd gotten involved in a bet, it had gone badly. Getting involved in another one seemed really stupid.
But as her father liked to say, no risk, no reward. Besides, the worst that could happen would be her ending up on a date with Kanan. And would that be the worst thing in the world?
Brushing off the thought, Hera gave Kanan a nod. “Deal.”
“Excellent,” Kanan said. “Okay, in order to do this-- you might have to tell me about yourself.”
“Very funny,” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow at her. “But you've got a point. Where do you want to start?”
Kanan frowned, knitting his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Let's see. Favorite color?”
“I like blue,,” Hera said.
Nodding, Kanan said, “I can see why. It’s a good color for you.”
“Are you going to spend this whole time flirting?” Hera asked, narrowing her arms at him.
“Maybe,” Kanan said, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips-- and why was Hera looking at his lips?
Hastily redirecting her attention, she said, “How about you?”
“Green. Which reminds me, I like your hair.” He gestured to her braids, his fingers brushing one of them. “What made you decide to dye them?”
Flicking one of her deep green braids over her shoulder, Hera said, “It’s… for my mom. I lost her when I was thirteen, and she actually did something very similar with her hair. After a while, it just kind of stuck. My brother did the same thing-- it’s kind of our thing at this point.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.” Kanan’s deep voice was unusually serious, and Hera glanced up to meet his eyes again. They held a sort of raw conviction, a sadness that almost made Hera think he knew what she was feeling. He gently touched her hand, but pulled back again a few seconds later, giving her space.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice irritatingly shaky. Clearing her throat, she said, “Um, let’s see. What else?”
“I’ve got a good one-- what’s your dream job?” Kanan asked.
“Well, I’m going to school to be a mechanic,” Hera replied. “But ever since I was a little girl, I’ve liked the idea of being a pilot.”
“Like for a commercial airline or something?”
Shaking her head adamantely, Hera said, “Definitely not. No, just… being able to fly. It appeals to me, the idea of being up there. Anyway, I’m working on getting my pilot’s license. If I’ll be able to do anything with it is another story entirely.”
“I get the feeling you’ll figure something out,” Kanan said with stunning certainty. “You’ve got this general air of confidence, like you can handle anything. I admire it.”
“Hmm. I appreciate the support. Well, how about you? Dream job?”
“I’ve never really had one,” Kanan said, grimacing. “Let’s just say that my future hasn’t ever been something that’s been set in stone. I don’t really have your confidence, shall we say.”
“I haven’t always been confident,” Hera said, making a face. “I guess you’ve just got to find what you’re passionate about and figure out how to make a living off of it.”
“I don’t know how well that’ll go in my case,” Kanan said wryly. “But it’s not a bad idea. Next question?”
Accepting the change in subject, Hera said, “Well, I don’t even know your last name. Shall we start there?”
“Easily fixed-- Jarrus,” Kanan said, his smile returning. “You?”
“Syndulla.”
Hera regretted answering the minute Kanan’s eyebrows shot up. “Syndulla? As in the prosecutor?”
Letting out a sigh, Hera said, “Yep. Consider that another nail in my social life coffin.”
“Well, you do have a couple friends over there,” Kanan pointed out.
“Yeah, well, most people I meet are pretty convinced that I’m as rich and stuck up as they’re convinced my dad is. Omega and I grew up together, and she’d introduced me to Merrin. Ahsoka is… technically in the police academy, so she wasn’t very intimidated by my dad.” Hera rubbed a hand over her forehead. “And my dating life is… frustrating. I’m a little particular as it is, though--” she stopped abruptly, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to dump all of this on you at all, it’s just--”
“It sounds to me like you need to talk about it,” Kanan said, his voice matter of fact. “And I’m happy to listen. I’ve been the object of many a drunken ramble-- and trust me, I’d rather listen to you.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Hera’s mouth. “Thanks. I think.”
“No problem. And for the record, the right people will stay friends with you regardless of who your family is,” Kanan told her. “I’ve been in a pretty similar situation, so I know what I’m talking about.”
Frowning, Hera said, “How so?”
Kanan hesitated, his expression clearly torn. “Uh. Do you know Mace Windu?”
“The deputy commissioner of the police department?” Hera said incredulously. “Yeah, my father has dinner with him and his daughter sometimes-- wait.” She stopped and squinted at Kanan. “Are you--?”
“His grandson,” Kanan said, offering what could be either a smile or a grimace. “Surprise. I don’t really talk about it a lot, but--” he shrugged. “We’ve all got family that’s not super easy to deal with.”
“Hmm.” Hera nodded thoughtfully. “Who would have thought our families would actually be so… entwined, I guess?”
A real smile started on Kanan’s face. “One could even call it fate.”
“Very smooth,” Hera said, and he laughed.
“Oh, just let me have this one.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Hera told him.
Leaning forward, Kanan locked eyes with her, their faces inches apart. Hera felt her breath catch as he said quietly, “Challenge accepted.”
Before Hera could respond, she heard a voice from behind them. “Hey, Hera?”
Kanan pulled back smoothly as Hera turned to see Ahsoka, whose expression was calm and blank, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Are you busy? I can come back later--”
“You’re fine,” Kanan cut in lightly. “Although, Miss Syndulla, I believe this belongs to you.”
Hera glanced back at him to see him holding out the coaster with his number scribbled on it-- and she remembered the bet. Right. And I won. So why didn’t she feel excited?
“I’ll see you back at the table, Hera,” Ahsoka said quietly, turning and heading back to where their friends were waiting.
Taking the coaster from Kanan, Hera said, “Thank you. For-- all of this, really.”
“Not a problem,” Kanan said, but Hera could read the slight disappointment in his eyes. And she was startled to realize she felt the same way. It wasn’t every day she met a guy she might be interested in, let alone one who wasn’t intimidated by her and her father. “Consider your tab covered.”
“Actually,” Hera said as he started to move away, “I’ve changed my mind.”
Surprise flashed across Kanan’s face. “Uh, what?”
“For my end of the bet. I’m changing the deal.”
“Okay,” Kanan said, folding his arms as a slow smile started to grow across his face. “What exactly did you have in mind? Obviously I won’t accept just anything, since you’re changing the deal after the bet is over.”
“Coffee,” Hera said calmly. “Tomorrow morning, you and me. I’m buying. There’s a place two blocks south of here that sells the best bear claws. It’s called, unfortunately, Bake It Til You Make It.”
“That’s… kind of the best name I’ve ever heard,” Kanan said.
“The guy who owns it thinks he’s hilarious. But he’s a good baker.” Holding Kanan’s gaze, Hera lifted an eyebrow. “What do you say?”
“Yes,” Kanan said, giving her a crooked grin. “I’d love to.”
“Good.” Hera sent him a smile that she knew was different from her usual one. But there was something about this guy that was different. Maybe it was his easy humor or the seriousness and respect that was just underneath, or maybe even the fact that he was seriously good looking.
It could also be the way he was looking at her right now-- soft and kind, with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. It took Hera a moment to regain her ability to speak. “What?”
“Why’d you change your mind about the bet?”
Hera pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t want to miss out on what could turn out to be something… good. If you know what I mean.”
“I definitely do,” Kanan said, his deep voice holding something that sent a shiver up Hera’s spine. “See you at eight-thirty, in that case?”
“I’ll meet you there,” Hera said. Shooting him a grin, she added, “And don’t be late.”
��Well, you have my number if I am.”
“Very true,” Hera agreed. She held his gaze for another second, feeling her heart speed up as he looked back. Then she got to her feet and headed over to the table where her friends were waiting, grinning like a pack of hyenas.
But. She had a really good feeling about tomorrow all of a sudden. And a fluttery feeling in her stomach that hadn’t been there in a long time. Maybe it was a good thing I lost that bet after all, Hera mused.
#hera syndulla#kanan jarrus#omega star wars#ahsoka tano#tbb#swr#tcw#anakin skywalker#dark o'reilly#(and yes i did cameo @accidental-spice's oc i do what i want)#trilla suduri#nightsister merrin#kanera#kanera is love kanera is life#star wars rebels#111 followers celebration#it was dope. the end
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Say You’re Sorry
Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader
Words: 3k (oops haha)
Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, swearing, slight choking, first time writing smut should probably be a warning itself, sexism, Max Phillips is a warning probably.
You knew it was a bad idea. Well, actually, no you didn’t. Not fully. The voice in your head was just screaming at you to stop - there were other ways to get his attention. Other ways to make Max feel bad for what he did during the Synersavers presentation that didn’t require you stooping this low. Fuck it, you figured, if he can go around and do whatever he wants to get his way then so can I.
Fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror one last time, you went back into the office looking for the desk you usually avoid like the plague. Max Phillips, fuck you.
Earlier That Day
“So you see, Mr. Jacobson, our third quarter projections have us coming in on top by two million dollars and the fourth quarter is looking even better. I mean really champ, if these numbers were anymore amazing they’d be as hot as your associate there in that fetching skirt,” Max winks at the woman taking meeting minutes for your potential new client, causing her skin to blotch, “fucking unreal. Pardon my French,” he finishes, earning a big laugh from the CEO of Synersavers, the new bullshit placebo pill that was supposed to alter the brain’s natural neural pathways to promote synergy. You weren’t sure what dreams synergy was helping pathetic humans to achieve, but it meant a bonus if they signed on so you made sure that PowerPoint presentation was the best slides of your career.
You scoff, worried that if you roll your eyes they’ll get stuck. You know Max Phillips was quite the charmer, you knew better than anyone in the office. This past year saw him go from being just your hot vampire boss you had a crush on, to your hot vampire boss that was now your boyfriend.
While you never made an official statement to your coworkers, you quietly signed the papers Amanda in HR needed signed and let the sound of you screaming Max’s name in his office while he was balls deep inside you let the rest of your coworkers know of your relationship. Overall, Max was a great boyfriend. Better than expected even - attentive, caring, protective to a fault, all while still being that loveable (?) piece of shit frat boy extraordinaire he had been at the beginning.
You knew he still had to lay on the charm to close sales from time to time, never actually violating your relationship in any way, but after the fight you had this morning you didn’t think flirting with the only person in the meeting who did not actually control whether or not this partnership was going to happen right in front of you was the best move.
“Mr. Phillips,” Jacobson says, once again only acknowledging Max and completely ignoring you as he had been for the entire presentation, “you got quite the silver tongue. But I like that about ya, I think you get what our product is all about and I wanna make this partnership work. I’m surprised your presentation is as good as it was, because if you’ll pardon my French, if my secretary looked as delicious as yours does I’d be too busy fucking her left, right, and centre to even think about the fourth quarter anything!” He laughs and claps Max on the shoulder and you tense up, sure that Max is going to say something. Not even because he’s your boyfriend, but because he landed the sale and doesn’t have to be as sleazy as this dickhead is.
“See that’s where you’re wrong Jacobson, it’s almost like I’m working double to avoid her. Just doesn’t get the mojo flowing, y’know? Maybe we should switch, what do you think sweetheart?” He looks over at the still flustered secretary, “Come on and work for me and we’ll work on some new ways of making synergy happen,” he wags his eyebrows and you’re surprised this poor woman hasn’t slid right off her seat. You’re stunned. Even as Mr. Jacobson laughs and brings a laughing Max into some sort of capitalist bro hug, you can’t bring yourself to move. It isn’t until you hear the squeak of the wheels from the chair Mr. Jacobson’s secretary was sitting against the shitty meeting room carpet that you snap back to the present and shut everything down. By the time you finish everyone is long gone, leaving you to stew in your rage.
A hesitant knock on the meeting room door makes you jump as you’re met with a sheepish looking Evan in the doorway. You were never a big fan of Evan when you started, kind of thought he was a wimp but he was nice enough. After getting with Max and learning their shared history, you couldn’t stand Evan, but were able to be far more professional when needed until Max.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here after Max and the Synersavers people left,” he shrugged. “What the fuck do you mean Max left with them?” You asked through clenched teeth. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Evan took a deep breath before telling you, “yeah, um. They left for a late liquid lunch from what it sounded like, Max said you would be too busy learning how to make a paper clip bracelet to join them… Sorry, he’s such an asshole. You don’t deserve that, especially not from that bastard,” He couldn’t meet your eyes. Even though he still tried to tell you to leave Max every single day, you appreciate him being there this time.
There were many things you could be mean to Evan for, but deep down you knew he didn’t deserve the wrath of your anger this time.
Later That Afternoon
After taking the elevator up to the office to mentally cleanse his mind from that mindless lunch with that absolute creep Jacobson, Max was trying to come up with the best apology for you. He knew he didn’t have to be so forward flirting with that secretary, what the fuck was her name anyways, in order to win the sexist CEO over. But he was feeling petty after your fight while you were getting ready for work he figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that many other women find him quite the catch.
“You’re lying! You have to be lying!! There’s no way that happened oh my god,” Max stops dead in his tracks as he hears your giggles from inside the office. “It is! I totally saw Tim practising the dance moves the day after that Kelly Clarkson concert in the men’s washroom. I didn’t even know she had dancers, but from what I saw it really must have been a hell of a show,” Evan says as you throw your head back and let out another over-the-top cackle. You’re sitting on top of Evan’s desk, resting your hand on his shoulder as he sits in between your open legs, clearly enjoying the attention.
You’re hamming it up, he knows that, he knows that’s not what your real laugh sounds like - the laugh he gets to hear when he really does something that you like. He knows you don’t mean it but he’s immediately flooded with anger and guilt. He obviously didn’t realize how much the day had taken a toll on you and now you must be really mad if you’re going to Evan to get back at him.
“Oh my god Evan that’s too funny,” you giggle and place a hand on his shoulder, “you just made my day! I won’t tell Tim anything, it’ll be our little secret,” you wink. Evan’s blush deepens at the touch, maybe you weren’t so bad after all and if Max (and Amanda at this point) didn’t look out he would maybe ask you out for a drink sometime soon. Bring you back to the land of the living.
Deciding he’s absolutely had enough, Max quietly comes up behind Evan and slaps both hands on his shoulders after seeing you move yours back to your lap, causing him to freeze and let out a little squeak. “Slugger, I’m sure whatever’s going on here is just too funny, but didn’t I ask you to finish up that presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with NuevaWeight?” he pouts, “I really thought you were taking this job seriously buddy, but maybe I should just get Andrew to take over…”
“N-no Max, sorry. Yeah the presentation is almost done, it’ll be ready before the end of the day,” Evan stammers. Max finally meets your eyes and smirks, “and you can meet me in my office. Apparently you think you can stop doing your job and distracting my employees.”
You can’t even speak, your jaw set and eyes burning from the absolute rage you feel right now. Yeah you’ll meet him in his office, but it won’t be so he can lecture you about whatever bullshit he’s already thought of. “Of course Mr. Phillips, meet you there,” you manage to snap back, calmly making your way to his office. Anyone walking by you immediately gets out of your way, your anger coming off in waves making your undead coworkers shiver.
Clapping Evan on the shoulder one more time, Max saunters over to his office, ready to make you beg for his forgiveness after that little stunt. As soon as he opens his office door he realizes that won’t be happening.
You’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk in a way that makes your skirt ride up and expose more thigh than what HR might deem office appropriate. “Ah, Mr. Phillips, so nice of you to make it,” you smirk. “Sweets, I think there must be some sort of misunderstandi-'' you cut him off with a dark look and stand up. Walking up to him you close his office door and push him against it, “No champ,” you sneer, “I think you’re confused here. I’m not the one who decided to be a very, very bad boy by flirting with someone else and insulting me in front of new clients.” Chest to chest, your hand slithers up to grab Max’s throat. Even though he is a vampire who could toss you around like a ragdoll, you know he’s letting you be in control. He likes it.
“While you were out entertaining I’ve been thinking about what I could do to make you really sorry, baby. You were already on thin ice from this morning, but now you’re drowning,” you squeeze a little harder on his throat making his eyes roll back. “What are you gonna do? I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You take a moment, just looking into those eyes you love so much, before answering.
“Maybe I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill my pussy up but not let you cum, because only good boys get to come, you know that Maxie. Maybe I’ll just use you like my own walking, talking dildo. If I’m so replaceable you won’t mind not getting to fill me up? Right?” You smirk again as he whines, his hands clenching because all he wants to do is make you feel good now.
“You wanna run that mouth, Phillips? You wanna make everything think you’re so fucking special when I know you’re really just a scared little vamp, huh?” You say with a pout. Grabbing his hair, you force his head up so you can look right into his eyes that are now almost completely black from lust. “Come on big shot, if you wanna be a big boy then you gotta show me that mouth can do something other than just spew bullshit, slugger.”
That’s all the permission he needs. He hoists you up in his arms and thanks to vampire speed you’re now sat on his leather couch, skirt up around your waist, underwear ripped clean off, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pouts, “let me make you feel good. I just want you-” You’ve heard enough, pushing him down so his mouth finally reaches your core. Moaning at finally tasting you, Max wastes no time taking your clit and sucking hard, already teasing your entrance with one of his long fingers.
“Y-Yes Max, fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum just like this,” you moan and clench around the finger inside of you, knowing you’re absolutely dripping onto the couch underneath you. He adds a second, then a third, making you arch your back until you’re almost sitting up from how good he’s fucking you with his hands. His mouth doesn’t stop, sucking and licking, spelling out his apologies against your body. Knowing you’re close, he starts focusing on that spot inside of you that drives you wild.
“Oh! Oh, Maxie yes. Such a g-good boy,” you pant, meeting his hand thrust for thrust trying to reach your high, “make me feel so good please please please baby I’m right there, I-” you can’t finish that sentence as your vision goes white and all you can do is let out a strangled moan that sounds like his name.
Once your legs start shaking you pull both of you up, undoing his belt and pushing him onto the couch so you can straddle his waist. You wrap a hand around his neck and start nipping at the area, rocking your soaked pussy along his aching cock that was now free from the confines of his dress pants a few times before sinking down on him. A wicked grin stretches across your face as his moans get louder. He chokes when he feels you gush around him, not expecting you to come again so soon but you were still sensitive from his mouth, the hair above his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, but you wanted more still.
Picking up the pace, you squeeze around his throat again and start taunting him, “You gonna replace me baby? Yeah? You gonna find a pussy that takes you this good? Be my guest. Go right now and find something better, or show me how goddamn sorry you are.”
Granting him permission to take over, Max flips you on your back, making sure your head is supported by one of the couch cushions. He immediately wraps your legs around his waist, angling one leg to let him sink even deep inside of you, your moans mixing together as you both revel in the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Wanting to prove himself he wastes no time pulling out just to start slamming back into you.
You moan and clench around him, making him hiss and he doesn’t let up. Watching him disappear inside of you over and over again, he starts babbling his apologies. “N-Never baby. Could never replace you. Never gonna find a pu-pussy this fucking good. Look at you, so perfect, so so perfect taking my cock like that. I’m sorry. You’re so good. I don’t deserve it, it’s- fuck it’s so fucking good. Best pussy of all time,” he moans as you clamp down on him, your third orgasm ripping through you.
“Yes - yes Max, that’s fucking r-right. I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have,” you moan again from being so full. You know he’s sorry so you decide to let him finish after all. Taking your hands off his shoulders, you start tangling your fingers in his hair and bring his face close to your so your lips are almost touching, “you did so good Maxie,” you coo, “you cock made me feel so fucking good I know you’re sorry now.” He shudders at your words but keeps his steady pace, trying to make you cum again, still holding back his own impending orgasm. “Thank you baby, ‘m so so sorry, I love you and I just wanna be good for you-” “shhh shhh Maxie, I know I know. You did good baby, now show me how good you are and cum inside of me.”
That’s all he needs.
Something between a groan and growl comes deep from within Max as he finally lets go, pushing himself as far as he can inside of you as he starts painting your walls. Coming down from his high, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you start peppering him with kisses wherever you can reach, carding your fingers through his hair.
“I’m really sorry baby,” you hear him mumble into your neck, “I love you.” He kisses along your throat and you hum, moving your head to give him more access. “I know Max, I love you too. I forgive you. But try that again and I’ll cut your dick off in front of the whole office,” you laugh.
He chuckles too, continuing to shower you with love. “As much as I want to stay right here forever baby, let’s go home and I can keep showing you how sorry I am,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows to earn a giggle from you, “sounds good Maxie, you’re lucky I’m just sooooo forgiving.”
Untangling from each other and making yourselves as presentable as you care to be, you leave the office hand-in-hand, ready to see what the rest of the night has in store.
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x y/n#max phillips x you#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal imagines#bloodsucking bastards
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Mr. President
Chapter 2
TW: Mentions of bruises, scars etc
Words Count: 1.3k
Link to Masterlist
Link to Chapter 3
The sun feels very blinding on your face. Trying to move your muscle one by one, pain suddenly rips through your body making you whimper.
“Careful.” A voice in the room says which you somehow immediately know belongs to Mr. Park.
Your eyes fling open to search for him and you find him in no time as he is seated on the bedside, watching you carefully. It’s almost unfair how illegally good looking he is.
You try to sit up but ends up groaning in pain. Your whole body hurt, every muscle is aching and screaming in pain.
“Your body’s still recovering. You need to take it slow.” He says impassively, not a hint of warmth.
“Where.. am I..?” Your voice hoarse.
“My house.” He simply says.
His house??? How- why-
Wincing and grunting, you eventually manage to sit up. You finally realize that you’re in a large and spacious bedroom with sleek beige furnitures and interiors decorating it.
You then allow yourself to stare at your saviour. Now that it’s morning, you can clearly see him and all his features. His gaze bores into you but you can’t deny how beautiful they are, his nose although not high but is sharp enough, his cheeks high and his lips.. he has a pair of very pretty pink plump lips, you note. Almost reluctantly, you drop your gaze to avoid being called lunatic or pervert for staring unashamedly.
Your gaze flickers back up when he stands, one hand in his pocket.
“I placed the painkillers there.” He juts his chin towards the bedside table and only now you notice the medicine and a glass of empty water there. “Feel free to leave once you’re capable enough to do so.” He frowns slightly, then turns.
You reach forward almost immediately, wincing at the throbbing pain on your ribs especially due to sudden movement. Without thinking, you reach for his free hand, gripping it desperately.
“Please-“ you croak and he turns, still frowning at your daringness to touch him. “Please- take me in. I’ll- I’ll.. do anything, I’ll work for you- anything. Just.. just please don’t-“ You trail off, because you don’t exactly know what you wish for.
For several moments, he just regards you. And for the briefest second, you think he would smile, takes your hand and mutters softly that he’s going to help you.
But nothing of the sort happens.
He just continues to stare at you impassively, clearly not impressed. The way he stares at you makes you feel small so you withdraw your hand, flustered and embarrassed for coming to this point in your life.
He sighs then. “Just rest.” Is all he says before he turns and leaves you alone, feeling even more helpless than ever.
Your shoulders slump back down and suddenly the realization that you really are going to be in the streets with no one to help brings fresh tears to your eyes. So you cry. For hours until you’re exhausted enough to fall asleep again.
The dark must’ve just set when you find yourself awake again, body aching even more now though there’s a lesser pain in your chest since you’ve let it all out from all the crying session.
You struggle to sit up when you feel your throat burning. You’re very thirsty. Letting out small squeaks with each muscle and limb you’re moving, you manage to sit yourself on the edge of the bed.
There’s a faint knock on the door that you think if you’re asleep you wouldn’t have heard them at all. Before you could react, the door opens and an elderly woman with her hair tied up in a bun appears. She smiles kindly as she calls your name.
“Miss..?” She hovers near the doorframe. “I brought you some fresh clothes, you can change into them. The bathroom is just beside you and if you’re done you can come outside and I’ll show you to Mr. Park’s study. He wants to see you.”
Your stomach lurches in response. He couldn’t possibly want to sue me.. or worse, kill me, right? Flashes of images of him beating your brother makes you shudder. One thing you know for sure is that he’s not someone to be messed with.
You stand though staggering slightly as your legs wobble. The elderly woman who introduces herself as Mrs. Lee immediately steps in and asks with a concern look whether you need help. You shake your head, telling you just need to take it slow and Mrs. Lee leaves you at your own devices after that.
Though not without numerous wincing and grunting, you somehow manage to shower as well, or more like wiping your body here and there. You briefly think that if you’re well enough, you’d be basking in the warm water the hot tub offers and appreciates the lavish interior of the bathroom.
You flinch when you see your own reflection in the mirror. You couldn’t have been in a worse state than this throughout your whole life. Bruises littering your body everywhere, it’s all marks of blue and purple, wounds and scratches from being thrown to the ground and your lips are slightly torn at the edge. There is also a cut above your right brow. You couldn’t really recognise yourself.
Sure, you had plenty experiences of being beaten by your abusive brother but last night, your brother seemed determine to beat you half dead. You sigh, tears almost threatening but you quickly brush it off. You have to be strong.
Outside the bathroom, there’s a white medium dress laid on the bed together with matching undergarments. You pick the dress up, eyes litting up at the beauty of it. You’ve never worn a dress before, simply because you can’t afford to be dressing up when you’re burdened with financial debts your whole life.
Still, you’re grateful since wearing a dress is still an easier task than having to fit through a jeans or leggings.
There’s a knock on the door again and Mrs. Lee appears again. Wow, she really has a knack of figuring your timing. She approaches you as you stand awkwardly on the dressing table.
“Would you sit down, Miss? Let me brush your hair.”
“Y- you don’t have to.” She doesn’t listen though, instead placing firm hands on your shoulder and putting slight pressure to make you sit in front of the dressing table. It somehow feels weird to be staring at your own reflection.
Mrs. Lee brushes your hair tenderly like a mother would her daughter. She then braids your hair slightly and tie it up in a bun, letting a few strands fall freely on each side of your head.
You feel weird. For once.. you think you look decent. Though bruises are still apparent on most of the surface of your skin and no makeup to cover your face, you don’t look so tired like always.
“Miss..?” Mrs. Lee interrupts your reverie as she taps your shoulder lightly. “I’ll show you to Mr. Park’s study. He’s waiting for you.”
And there goes your stomach churning again at the mention of Mr. Park. You’ve no idea what to expect and that makes your stomach churns further, anxiety almost swallowing you whole.
Mrs. Lee leads you out of the bedroom into the hall filled with arts and paintings on the wall and only coming to a stop when you almost reach the end of the hallway in front of a double mahogany door. She knocks on them and you don’t miss the escalating heart beat of yours as your anxiety heightens as she announces your arrival to whoever’s waiting on the other side of the door.
She doesn’t wait for an answer but opens the door and urges you to enter. Filled with trepidation as if you’re entering a lion’s den, you step inside.
If you thought the bedroom you were in just now was huge, it doesn’t compare to this study room. It’s vast, with bookshelves surrounding it and rows and rows of books, old or new filling it. Across the room, there’s a table by the window and you finally see the man sitting behind it. He doesn’t look up when you enter so you stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.
There’s also another man standing across the table, facing Mr. Park.
He turns at the sound of you entering and your jaw almost drop at the visual of this man. He’s tall, skin slightly tanned but above all, the features of his face are almost out of this world. Eyes sculpted to perfection, tall nose and sharp jaw, he stares at you making you stop short in your tracks. The corner of his lips tugs very lightly as he addresses your presence.
“Ah, Miss Y/N.” His voice is very, very low without him having to make the effort. “Please, come here and have a seat.”
He gestures towards your right and you notice a seating area with plush white sofa and modern table. You don’t move until the guy who was speaking just now moves towards the sofa followed by Mr. Park. You chance a glance at Mr. Park as he takes confident strikes across the room and you marvel at the way even his walking exudes charisma. He takes his seat gracefully, sitting cross legged and you miss the way he eyes you from top to bottom as you walk over while the tanner guy remains standing beside him and only now you notice he’s holding several papers in his hands.
He looks at you and gestures you to take a seat once more which you do. You almost buckle in nervousness as the two’s gaze land on you.
“So, Miss Y/N,” the guy standing starts. “My name is Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you.”
If your senses aren’t tingling all the time and you aren’t fidgeting so much in anxiety, you’d probably have half the brain to answer to his sentence but right now you’re trying very hard to do as much as breathing that you end up mumbling incoherent reply, much to the guy named Taehyung’s amusement though Mr. Park’s expression remains impassive.
“I understand that your family had been a tenant of one of Park Corporations housing area for more than twenty years now. You also have a history of late payment since five years ago and currently has a backlog of payment for one year, amounting 4 million KRW. Is that correct?”
You feel beads of sweat starting to appear on your forehead but you still nod nevertheless.
“You failed to pay for the past year which resulted to the house being seized and you’d be homeless but.. here you are..”
You try to hide the grimace as Taehyung addresses the obvious situation.
“And you still owe Mr. Park here 4 million KRW and may I ask if you have any means to settle them within this month?”
You swallow. You want to ask for another chance, to give more time but you know even if they do give you a chance, there’s no way you can rake millions just like that. Unless you sell yourself, perhaps. And that still might not make up the amount of money. So naturally, you just shake your head slightly.
“So, Miss Y/N, since you’re owing such huge amount to Mr. Park and you have no means to pay.. that means you’re technically..” Taehyung continues but was cut off by Mr. Park.
“Mine.” He says and the word echoes in your mind a million time. You’re.. what? You look up at him and see the corner of his mouth slightly quirks up like he’s smirking. Your gaze flickers to Taehyung too and he’s doing the same as well making a shiver run down your spine. Why do you feel like you’re being sold to the devil..
“So I have a proposition for you.” This time it’s Mr. Park speaking. “A marriage contract.”
A WHAT?
Link to Chapter 3
Posted on 210325 9:00PM
#serendipityjxmn#serendipityjxmnmrpresident#mrpresident#bts fic#jimin fic#jimin au#park jimin#parkjimin#jimin smut#smut#kpop#mafia#jimin mafia#ceo jimin#bts smut#bts au#bts mafia
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Fantasy Cruise
This piece is made for a very special someone, @standoutofthecrowd as a gift. The characters in this story are original and do not belong to any fandom. If you give it a read, I hope you enjoy ❣
Warning! The rating of this is M for Mature themes. ;)
They called it the Fantasy Cruise.
The hyper-luxurious ship of not-so innocent dreams, which promised to make anyone’s fantasies a reality during its five-day trip across the Mediterranean.
Well. So long as the money was there for an individual to afford one of its limited, mind-boggingly expensive tickets. Whoever said dreams were cheap clearly hadn’t heard of that cruise.
The advertisements all over the world promoted the experience as ‘starring in a romance movie’. And wouldn’t anybody be excited to star in their very own epic adventure?
“No.” Quinn deadpanned, dragging her luggage behind as she followed Lena into the fifth circle around the same deck, where their cabins were supposed to be.
“What do you mean no, stupid, isn’t this amazing?!” the other girl asked excitedly.
Quinn wondered what exactly was so amazing about getting lost on a piece of wood floating into the vast blue sea. Her glare met Lena’s back without much of an impact.
“No means no. It’s fine at best.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Quinn! Just look at this!” the redhead said, turning around to throw an arm around her shoulders and motion towards the polished-to-a-sparkle saloon, as if that would change the brunette’s entire worldview. “I won us free holidays to the world’s sexiest cruise. You should be beside yourself with excitement right now and buying me a shit ton of drinks as thank you!”
Quinn shook her head. “Correction; You won a trip for you and Mike –but then you had to go and break up and drag me into this, at the last moment.” As always. The woes of being a best friend.
“Because your single ass could really use what this dreamy ship has to offer.” Lena stated.
“It could also use some rest and relaxation at my grandparents’ seaside house.” The brunette countered. “Instead of being the wingwoman to the universe’s most annoying redhead.”
Lena grimaced. “And a sucky wingwoman, at that. Most of the guys I’m interested in come onto you.”
“Except I’m a tad too gay to care.” Quinn let out a small, exasperated sigh.
“Well, then this cruise is your chance! There are a ton of girls here and I can guarantee they aren’t straight as arrows, hon.” Lena replied. “Tell you what. When we find our rooms, we’ll take a look around. And if nobody exists to catch the great Quinn’s interest, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the trip.”
Quinn’s brown eyes immediately lit up at the sound of that.
“I should be offended at how much you perked up just now.” The other girl commented. “But, anyway. Do we have a deal?”
They shook hands. “We got a freaking deal.”
It only took another hundred turns to find their respective rooms.
…
Quinn was no stranger to waiting for Lena to get ready. The woman could show up anywhere from a quarter to an hour later than their arranged meeting time, so it was nothing out of the norm.
Alone in the empty corridor, Quinn checked her smartwatch, then leaned back against her door with a bored huff. She could already feel the ultra-comfy, queen-sized bed within calling her name, but if she gave into the urge to rest Lena would surely come in like the human wrecking ball she was and ruin it for her.
Giggles from down the corridor reached her ears, then.
Two girls were walking towards her, one raven-haired, the other blonde. Quinn didn’t really pay them any mind, until they were close enough to tell the cute laugh belonged to the blondie.
The stunning blondie.
Quinn hoped –but wasn’t betting on it— that she was subtle in her double-take. Because as soon as the beauty entered her field of vision, all else faded into the background. The girl’s hair was shining like silken strands, her pink lips glossy and glistening, absolutely kissable, her pretty face and killer body taken straight out of a dream.
Hazel eyes met brown for a single, earth-stilling second.
Then the girls were past her and Quinn blinked, checking the blonde’s back out before she disappeared around the next corner.
Damn, she thought. Maybe all that crap about fantasies coming to life weren’t complete bullshit, after all.
“Why do you look like a fish out of water?” Lena’s voice came, shattering the dream to pieces.
“Because I felt like one, waiting for your sorry ass to get ready. Move it or I’m going for a nap.”
“No, you’re not~ we’re hitting the pool.” Lena sing-songed.
Ugh. Maybe I can find someone to keep her busy for the next four days. Quinn thought. She’s happy, I’m free, win-win.
If she only knew…
…
“Hey. Hey look.” Lena whispered. Quinn huffed over her drink. “How about that guy? How would you rate him?”
“Why do you assume my answer’s gonna change? All guys get a zero out of ten from me. Period.”
“He’s an eight at least.”
“Sure, Lena.”
“How about that sexy over there, who’s been staring at your abs for the past ten minutes?”
“Hm?” Quinn turned, following her friends’ gaze under her glasses.
The drink nearly dropped from her hand when she saw the blonde from earlier on the other side of the crystalline pool, fair skin glittering from suncream. The brunette’s throat went dry.
“Ah, now she’s speechless.”
“Tsk. Don’t be an idiot, she’s probably not even gay.”
“Do you have eyes? Even I can tell she’s interested.” was the immediate reply.
“From this distance you couldn’t tell a dude apart from a girl, you idiot.” Quinn teased with a smirk.
“You’re the idiot if you don’t act fast and another girl chats her up first. Remember; We’re here to have a good time. Stop being uptight; There’s your good time, all blonde and waiting for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Lena, whatever you say-” But her friend was already rising from her sunbed. Quinn didn’t pay her any mind, at first, thinking she was just going for a swim or for a guy that caught her eye.
Instead, five minutes later, much to Quinn’s terror, the insufferable redhead was taking a seat right beside the cute blonde.
To say the brunette rushed to the other side of the pool would be an understatement. She could not recall a single instance in her life where she ran faster. It was practically teleportation.
“Hello, girls. This one has had too much to drink so excuse me, I’m taking her away~”
“Lies, they needed to know you have the hots for blondie but you’re too pussy to make a move-” the redhead began.
Quinn covered Lena’s mouth with a hand, pulling her into a headlock with the other. “Shh, don’t listen. We’re leaving. Sorry for the interruption.”
“Sad.” Miss Cute Blonde spoke up with a shy smile. “So… you’re not interested in me.”
“I… did not say that.” Quinn replied, heart suddenly in her throat. “I also didn’t say I don’t want your number.”
“Oh, good.” Another darling smile.
God. Head empty, girl too pretty. Quinn mentally slapped herself to get her shit together. “And definitely didn’t say I don’t want to see you at the bar later. At, like, ten o’clock.” Thank whatever higher power graced me with this sudden bravery.
“Maybe I’ll be there.” The blonde said.
It was only after Quinn went back inside with her friend in tow that she realized she didn’t even ask for the girl’s name.
“You’re welcome.” Lena laughed.
“Shut up…”
“You’re such a useless lesbian, by the way.”
…
Night had well settled over the ship. The massive pool at its pinnacle stood illuminated by both the moonlight and the soft LEDs within it, creating a beautiful setting, equal parts calming and seductive. Perfect for drinks and dates.
Quinn adjusted her blue button-up shirt as she walked out into the deck, greeted by the wonderful sight. There were tons of well-dressed people all around, but her eyes caught on one individual only.
“Hi.” She greeted, surprised she could speak at all, with the gorgeous blonde right there and dressed up just for her.
“Hey.”
“You look beyond beautiful. Only problem is, I can’t keep calling you ‘cute blonde’ in my head.”
“You look sexy. And you can call me Paisley, Quinn.” she replied in her sweet voice.
“You… know my name.” Don’t blush, don’t blush—
“I asked your friend.” came the shy admission.
“Yeah? What else did you ask about me?” Quinn smirked, slipping into the stool next to hers.
“Um… if you like girls…?”
“If I like you?” Feeling bolder, she raised a challenging eyebrow.
“If you like me…” Paisley chuckled there at the end. It was a sound that shot straight to Quinn’s heart.
And that– was worrying.
Because this was quite literally her dream girl in front of her... except she’d already paid the price of dreams, before. It had felt similar, then, since the first moment. A zap, undeniable attraction. An instant connection. And then… she’d been left bitter and alone.
Cold. Afraid to approach women for anything other than one quick, meaningless night.
“I think it’s quite easy to tell I do like you. A lot of things about you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, that melodic voice. How come a girl like you is single? That’s a crime.”
“Um. Long story, I guess. How come a girl like you is?”
“Long, unhappy story.” Quinn grimaced.
“I have time.”
They ended up chatting the night away, until the small hours of the morning.
…
The deck had nearly emptied.
Paisley and Quinn were walking side-by-side, admiring the dark waves as they gently lapped at the stark white shell of the cruise. It was time to say goodnight, but both were hesitant to go. To break the moment. To lose the chance for more.
Slowly, they turned to face each other.
“I had a great time.” Quinn began. “Thanks for the amazing company.”
“No, thank you…”
Neither moved to leave. Instead, they gravitated closer. Perhaps it wasn’t a smart move. Perhaps it would only lead to more trouble in the end. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps it was fleeting.
But.
Quinn knew she would regret it for her entire life if she let Paisley slip away without first knowing exactly how soft her lips would feel against her own.
“So…” She began. “In the hypothetical scenario I wanted to kiss you before we go… would you like that?”
A brilliant smile, enough to rival the moon in its shine. “Hypothetically… I would.”
No more needed to be said.
The lock of their lips spoke the rest for them. Slippery, soft, tasting of daiquiri and strawberry lipgloss, that kiss was everything.
That kiss was the beginning of everything.
…
A full day had passed and they spent every moment together.
Swimming, laughing, trading interesting little facts and life stories. Trading kisses. What they had was a bond that formed so suddenly yet so powerfully it defied even logic.
As love often did.
And it was love. They both knew it, instinctively. Perhaps they weren't ready to admit it, perhaps the word was scary to fully register, yet that didn't make it any less true.
Every kiss fed something more than desire. Every caress, over an arm, over the gentle curve of a neck or a thigh, carried more than a physical aftershock.
They both knew they were on the same page on what they wanted, come nighttime. It was a wonder they hadn't ripped each other's bathing suits right by the pool so far. But they could only play nice for so long.
Quinn could feel her skin alight with want at every wayward trail of Paisley's nails on her. She wanted to have everything with the girl, even if it was just for a few days, just for one unforgettable night. They could worry about the rest later. They were already in too deep, anyway.
Paisley's back pressed against the door to her room. Her mouth was already onto Quinn's, tongue over her own, soft sighs and breaths filling the nonexistent space between their bodies.
Quinn's hands slipped under the blonde's top, caressing her tight, quivering stomach.
“Ah, at this rate we'll never make it inside.” Paisley panted.
“Good. Then whoever comes this way will know you're mine to have.” Quinn replied. Her teeth caught the sensitive shell of an ear. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For them to walk in on us like this? With my hand in your pants, rubbing you slowly?”
“Mmh.. Fuck...”
“With my fingers in your pussy, working deep?”
“Fuck Quinn...” Paisley groaned, pushing herself down on the thigh trapped between her legs. It only made the ache at her center worse.
Quinn couldn't help but rub herself against her, to ease her own lust. Their lips locked again while Paisley fumbled blindly for the electronic lock. It was a wonder they got the door to open with how focused they were on each other. Quick steps took them to the plush mattress at the far end of the room.
The brunette pushed gently, taking great pleasure in how easily her lover allowed herself to fall. Pale wrists were pinned onto the bed while thirsty tongues and bodies sought each other out...
But then they both pulled back. Paused. Stared into each other's eyes. The mood shifted like the wind before a storm. All the previous lust melted into something softer and far deeper, the urgency muted as they slowly started peeling each other's clothes off.
“You really are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” Quinn whispered.
“You're the most stunning I've seen.” Paisley said back, a hand caressing her brunette's strong shoulders.
As much as she wanted to melt under the ministrations, Quinn wanted to bring her girl to that serrated edge of bliss, first. Thus began her descent down the marble plane of the blonde's neck, pausing to mark the skin with her teeth before soothing it with licks and kisses, enjoying every hitched breath she drew.
God, she feels so good...
With a light caress over Paisley's thigh, her mouth licked over a hard nipple, paying it the proper attention before moving further down. Her blonde was quivering by that point, non-verbally begging for her release. Every muscle taut, every breath shallow, eyes blown into swirling black pools. She was breathtaking.
Everything about the moment was.
When deft fingers finally dragged over soaked flesh, the reaction was as immediate as it was loud. Quinn decided she could easily get hooked on the sound and repeated the same motion with her tongue, from bottom to top.
She could feel in her mouth how ready to topple over the edge Paisley was for her. How she tried to last longer but couldn't help it. Quinn didn't think she could wait any longer, either. She needed to see her unravel more than she needed oxygen, right then.
With the insertion of fingers and a powerful suck, Paisley was crying out into the room, arching, clenching and contorting for her. Quinn, brought to the edge by her voice alone, couldn't help but grind down on her leg to mirror her release.
They both lay together after that, basking in the quiet closeness of their afterglow, hands roaming, worshiping, until the sunrise greeted them with its golden glory.
...
“I'm scared.” Paisley admitted between them. “That when the cruise ends, so will we. And I'm not ready to let this go tomorrow.”
“Neither am I. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.” Quinn said. “I haven't felt this way before. I don't generally feel things so... powerfully.” But this one slipped right under her defenses, somehow.
“But how will we make this work? You live here. I live on the other side of the world.” The blonde lowered her head, expression overtaken by sadness. “We'll just hurt to be apart.”
“We'll hurt, yes. But we won't 'just' hurt. Every relationship comes with pain— I think it's unavoidable, whether one’s partner is near or not. The question is, whether that pain is worth it. And I'd rather hurt yearning for you than for not having you at all.”
“I— I don't know what to say...” Paisley trailed off. “I only know I can't bear to lose you.”
“You won't lose me if you don't let me go. I will never abandon you, never let you face this shitty world alone.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
A promise sealed with a kiss and intertwined fingers below a gorgeous sunset.
And as it turned out, love can defeat any obstacle if it's real and true. Physical restrictions don't matter when it comes to what the heart needs. Distance bends before it. Even time can. Laws of physics and reason cease to apply.
The heart will love what it is meant to love.
#creative writing#original character#oc x oc#fanfiction#original work#quinn and paisley#love story#wlw#lgbtq#the gay is everywhere#happy pride 🌈#gift fic
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Plums and Awkward Encounters
Warnings: my first imagine, awkward??, fluff, slow burn, a meet cute?
Pairing: Bucky x black!reader
Words: 2.2k
The 2pm sun beat down on you hard as you carried your grocery bags under your arms. The concrete beneath you seemed to radiate that heat back to you. Even the bustling traffic on your left didn't seem to help the temperature.
Who would be crazy enough to drive in this weather? Let alone walk. Heatwaves in New York City were the worst things to ever happen. Only the brave survived. You chuckled to yourself as you imagined people melting just like the ice cream you had left on your counter last night.
After a few steps, you paused to reshuffle your bags and the headphones in your ears. You could feel pools of sweat gathering under your arms. For a moment, you became scared that the wetness would tear the paper and the groceries would fall out.
Adela, the shopkeeper had offered to double bag but you had mumbled an incoherent answer about ‘wasting paper; while you fanned yourself with a stack of greeting cards at the till. She had simply laughed and shouted after you ‘Come back if you need more, my sweet!’.
So you had picked up your cross to bear the walk home. After a while, the music in your ears changed from the acoustic sounds to a swelling jazz noise that startled you. In alarm and confusion, you fumbled in your back pocket to decrease the volume, forgetting that your groceries relied on your arms. Your tinned cans, frozen dumplings and a punnet of plums tumbled out of your bag, displaying a very obvious and a very damp hole at the bottom of your bag.
A car hooted near-by with young guys as your face became even hotter when one of them shouted ‘Ay sweetheart! You need some help?’ They sped off leaving you angry, wishing that you had taken Adela’s offer
In dismay, you took out your headphones and tucked them in your back pocket to hear someone else shouting just behind you. For a moment you wondered whether it was one of those boys, coming back to hassle you further, This was New York after all.
‘Excuse me?’ ‘Miss!’ This time you turned around to see a tall man bounding down the steps of a red brick apartment building. His brown hair flowed against his chin and his white long sleeve tee and dark grey jean shorts bore specks of green paint.
‘Hey’. He said as he finally reached you, momentarily breathless after jogging to you.
You stood and simply said ‘Hey….. Um..?’ You waited for the man to speak.
You did your best to hide your damp armpits from his blue eyes by crossing your arm around your other bag
‘Yeah sorry, um.. I just wanted to give you a couple of your plums that… rolled my way’. He had waved his hand to his side to demonstrate the roll. More importantly, you noticed a gloved hand on his left hand.
‘Oh, thank you’ You smiled tiredly and snapped your eyes back to him, realising that you had been looking. ‘How did they even get that far?’ You sighed and rolled your eyes chuckling with him.
He continued to chuckle as he dropped the plums in your hand and said ‘Well… you had a pretty determined face as you were walking’.
You laughed, knowing the face he meant. ‘Well, I don't think I can stay in this heat for any much longer... so it was that, or suffer slowly’ you mentioned.
‘Oh yeah… of course!’ ‘Here, let me help you’. The tall stranger started to gather the various tins and the packet that had fallen by your feet.
You had been standing next to him as you tucked the other bag further into your arm. You started to awkwardly lean down to help him pick up the last few tins when he suddenly stood up, his forehead meeting your chin. The pain flooded your tongue as you accidentally bit on it on impact.
‘Oh my God! ‘Oh my God, I am so sorry’ the stranger repeated. ‘I am so sorry miss’. ‘Here, lemme, get you something for that! Ice is good’. He started to fumble in his back pocket until he realised the stupidity of his actions.
Redness flooded his face. ‘Um, I’ll just run back to my place. I'm pretty sure i've got some ice sitting in the back of my freezer’. He awkwardly rubbed his hands on his jeans, walking backwards, until you nodded, prompting him to say a soft ‘okay’.
He left as soon as he had arrived, leaving you on the sidewalk with your groceries still lying by your feet. You were considering placing the rest of your food in the other bag as you heard hurried footsteps bound towards you again. Looking up, the brown haired stranger was holding out this time a bag of ice cubes.
You tried to smile this time but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You should have been more grateful but you couldn't help thinking just how… tiresome your day had been so far.
He placed his hands on his hips, signalling his hand to his apartment. ‘So… do you want to come in and sit down for a bit? You’ve got blood on your lip’
Your hand instinctively went to touch your lip and drew back to look at your crimson fingers. He was right. Even still. This man was a complete stranger. You didn't know him! Was he using that as a pick up line to get you to….
‘Oh wow! I am so sorry. I regretted that as soon as I opened my mouth’ he started apologising again, as if he had read your mind.
You smiled softly as the ice began numbing your lip and said ‘no its okay, I should really get going.’ ‘My food isnt going to walk to my apartment’.
You started the ritual again, of putting the food in the other bag when you realised that a hole was forming in that one too. Tall guy followed your eyes and said softly ‘Hey, please. Let me at least help you get home’. He started to reach his arm out in the busy traffic when you stopped him and said ‘no, it's okay, my apartment isn't that far away’.
He scratched the back of his neck again and his dark eyes glinted, catching the name of the grocer printed on the bag ‘Adela’s Deli and Grocery’. Before you registered what was going on, he had started running in the direction that you had walked from, shouting ‘I’ll be right back!’.
This time, you really gave up. You had just spent an extra ten minutes outside in the heat that you weren't planning on. You gathered the rest of your things and walked to his apartment building steps. With a sigh, you sat down with resignation, not really knowing what else to do.
As you stared at your definitely melted dumplings, you heard the jazz music that had surprised you before. Had it been playing all this time? It was so much louder before!
You looked behind your shoulder and took a deep breath in. Wet paint filled your nostrils and for the first time today, you felt still. You closed your eyes, the music seemed to drown the traffic and the smell of paint distracted you from the pain in your mouth. You must have looked a mess.
You quickly realised that the stranger was the one who had made you stop in alarm. His loud jazz music had frightened you and… and if it wasn’t for him you wouldn’t be sitting on his steps; sweaty, bloody and with 2 torn bags. Actually… the bags had been your fault, so the handsome guy was excused from that equation. Wait.You found him handsome? ‘Y/N!’ you sighed to yourself with your eyes still closed, ashamed that your brain had subconsciously led you to this conclusion. You continued to silently scold yourself for feeling mushy about a stranger helping you who just happened to be handsome. He couldn't help it! Also, where had he gone? And why were you still sitting on his steps like a squatter? You started to wonder about his one gloved hand. Did he have a medical condition? Also, who wore long sleeves in this weather?
**************************************************************************************
Handsome man had stopped running when his apartment building came into view and he saw you sat down on his steps. He inhaled sharply as he saw your face angled towards the sky, the sun hitting your cheekbones perfectly, the light hitting your curls and shoulders to create a perfect silhouette of a shadow behind you. His heart beat faster as he approached you.
***************************************************************************************
Someone cleared their throat. You were still in a closed trance when you heard it again followed with a deep but soft ‘Hey’.
Your eyes blinked open to reveal handsome guy standing in front of you, now slightly sweaty, holding out 3 bags with Adela’s shop's name on them.
‘You… you ran to Adela’s in this heat?’ You said, clearly astonished.
‘Ah.. yeah its not that far, only 3 blocks away.’ He looked embarrassed at the sudden attention.
There was a pause as you both looked at each other. His face with a slight smile and yours with a smile too, though yours must have been more puffy and swollen.
‘Oh…. um here.’ He gave you two bags and with the third he started to pick up your groceries from his steps. Unprompted. You started to wonder whether your friend Maddie’s perception of NYC men being ungentlemanly, was accurate.
You started to transfer the other groceries when you remembered you hadn't said thank you. Not properly anyway.
‘Thank you so much by the way… this was really nice of you’ You began.‘You didn't have to run all the way and back...but thank you’. You had started to trip over your words so you decided to stop yourself there.
Handsome man simply looked up to meet your Y/E/C eyes, smiled and said ‘it was the right thing to do.’
You must have had a mini blackout at that point because the man was standing at the bottom of the steps next, reaching out his free hand, still smiling and said ‘I’m Bucky by the way’.
You extended yours, smiled and said ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N’.
You had joined him at the bottom of the steps when he said ‘So, I’ll help you get these to your place’. ‘We wouldn't want another casualty on our hands now would we’.
‘How altruistic of you’. This time you laughed properly.
Bucky thought it was the most wonderful thing he had heard all month.
Leading the way, you both started to say ‘So, um’. You both chuckled at the synchronicity. You talked mostly while Bucky listened. You both talked about the weather, and you told him how disappointed you were this morning to find that your cookie dough ice cream had melted all over your counter. He started to say how his favourite flavour was vanilla with chopped plums on the side when you said.
‘I couldn't have vanilla because the soy ones taste awful’.
Stopping in his tracks he said ‘What? You don’t eat dairy? Ever?’
‘Ever’ you laughed. ‘Though sometimes cheese is my weakness.
‘Oh man’. Bucky started to chuckle ‘I don't blame you! Pasta and pizza would be nowhere without cheese!’.
You had now reached your front door when you said ‘Well. This is me…. Thanks for everything, Bucky’.
Bucky waved his free arm as if to say it was nothing. He waited until you had found your key in your back pocket and had opened the front door. You placed your bag inside the door and turned around to see Bucky handing you the one he had carried for you.
‘So.. um well. It was nice meeting you.’ He nervously looked down at your mouth ‘I’m really sorry about your mouth too’.
‘Please no, don't be.. takes two to tango’. You cringed inwardly and cursed yourself as you took your bag from his arms and placed it inside.
Bucky looked amused to say the least as he chuckled at your innuendo. He now felt he had to say something profound. Anything to make you want to see him again as much as he wished to see you. Would that have been weird? He thought he felt a connection between you. He started to scold himself that this was the 21st century. And everything was different.
He cleared his throat and started… ‘So, I was wondering if I could see you again?’ Would that be okay?’
You were shocked. A handsome guy was asking to see you. Little old you. You started to nod and said ‘Yeah, sure.’ ‘Well, we both know where we live’. You almost slapped yourself for not offering your number instead of opening your mouth.
‘Oh yeah, pretty sure there's some stray plums marking my door right now’ He laughed.
Your eyes met again with a pause. Bucky wanted to stare at you all day. Until he remembered… His front door. He had left it open all this time.
Bucky started to run back. Again, but this time, with panic in his dark blue eyes. ‘I’ll see you soon, doll’, he shouted.
You grasped the railing outside and as you headed inside, you exhaled and smiled.
Hey everyone! Thanks for making it this far if you have. Im basically new to writing imagines so I would love any ideas or feedback you may have. I would also love some friends on here so HI :)
#bucky x black!reader#bucky barnes x black!reader#bucky x reader#mcu x reader#incorrect mcu quotes#the winter soldier#slow burn#bucky x you#bucky imagine
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The Devil Inside - Part 5
Thanks for reading. I’m going with a couple of shorter chapters instead of one long finale. Hope you like it.
Pairing - Ivar and reader
Warnings - dark Ivar, explicit smut, bad relationship, toxic love
By the following night without a word from Ivar, not a single call or text, and no sign of the black Camaro, you were no longer laughing. It felt like your world had collapsed to the ground. And, that alone was confusing as he was the one who had been such a prick. Right? Hadn’t he? Still, it was impossible to escape the feeling of guilt and some hard-to-define panic.
Your Ivar! Your beautiful, intense, complicated Ivar; his only fault being how much he loved you.
Was it actually over, you wondered for the zillionth time? Could the two of you work it out or would you never speak again? Would he ghost you? Ah yes, that was the fear creating the panic; you were worried he would write you off as though you had never existed. Just that idea, despite his display of rage, made your blood run cold and your heart straight-up rejected the notion that you were better off without him.
After months of the two of you cocooning away and blowing off the world, you were grateful, grateful, that your two best friends had your back. One look at your pale, despondent face the previous day, walking into class, and they flew into BBF mode.
God, they were great but you questioned their thinking. How would going out, within 24 hours of your love story ending, possibly help you?
But… there you sat in your room wearing a one-shouldered purple dress and strappy heels while Amanda carefully lined your lips and Kim flat ironed your hair. They yattered away as if to distract you, talking about what an asshole Ivar was, a complete psycho, and thank god you hadn’t slept with him. Eeeek, all that solidarity, and you had given them a watered-down version of what had happened during the fight.
Barely taking in their words, you thought over and over all that had been said in his car, questioning if it had truly been that bad. It felt awful at the time, but things seemed different after such a long time without hearing from him. Did it mean you had forgiven him? Definitely not but you still felt like a balloon bouncing in the wind without your Ivar.
Under it all, he just needed you and the thought of you with another guy was more than he could process. How can that be a bad thing? And it had been you, YOU, who desecrated his most treasured possession, his beloved mother’s necklace, a necklace he had imparted so lovingly. Wasn’t your behaviour as bad or even worse? Could he forgive you?
Tears rose in your eyes making the girls stop and stare, looking like a pair of barn owls.
“Oh babe,” Kim whispered squeezing your shoulder and Amanda leaned in, looking as if she was pitying a dog.
“Tonight is exactly what you need,” she nodded. “The dance will take your mind off of everything. Trust me.”
WELL, THAT WAS A FUCKING LIE.
The school gymnasium was dark and stuffy, the music pounding and the strobes seemed to flash all the way into your brain. It was the last place you needed to be! God! Every guy wearing a leather jacket made you do a double-take and Ivar’s absence screamed louder than the noise. Just twenty feet away your friends were dancing and yet you had never felt so alone. That must have been how Ivar felt, that day on the road, watching you run away from him. Your poor, love….. Where was he?
“Is it really you? Are you honestly here?” asked Mark Hasting as he, all-of-sudden, appeared at your side, reeking of weed and smiling one of his squinty-eyed smiles. “Mr. Lothbrok let you out of his grasp for a night. I almost don’t believe it.”
Not a word came out of your mouth and you looked from Mark back to the dance floor unable to tell him that the two of you had broken up. And….. that it was all your fault. Instead of easing Ivar’s fears, you had doused gasoline on his pain. Should you tell Mark that? What a horrible person you were? Oh god, what had you done?
Taking a deep breath, a gasp really, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
“Mark?” you cried out and it turned into a sob.
“Yea, heeey, what’s wrong?” he scrunched his forehead with concern and stepped closer.
“Can you give me a lift home? I can’t be here right now.”
----
Waving your thanks to Mark, you watched him reverse out of the driveway and closed the front door. Not taking the time to remove your coat or turn on the lights, you riffled through your purse looking for your phone. You had to find Ivar.
Would you call or text? Call! Yes, calling would be better and if he didn’t answer, you’d go straight over to his house. Oh god, that was a nerve-wracking thought, driving over and just walking in. What if he wasn’t alone...what if some chic was there? Your mind began to spin as your insecurities played tricks despite knowing, in your heart-of-hearts, how unlikely that was.
Bringing his number up on our phone, you headed through your dark kitchen toward your room, your ears still humming from the music at the dance. Staring at his number, you slowed to a stop and leaned against the hallway wall, sliding down to sit on the carpet. It was time.... and it felt scary as you had no idea where to start and Ivar was not a guy to make things easy. It was no stretch of the imagination to envision him picking up and not saying a word, just listening on the other end as you stuttered on. Regardless, there were things that needed to be said and for your part in the horrible mess, you wouldn’t keep score. Honestly, how could any girl keep score who dated Ivar Lothbrok?
Deep breath in, you steadied your nerves and hit dial, your ear pressed to the phone as it began to ring. Waiting, listening, holding your breath, you didn’t at first hear the faint buzzing sound. It was when you lowered the phone that it captured your attention. Ending the call, you sat straining to identify it but all was quiet in the house; the sound was gone. Tapping his number again, you redialed, keeping the phone in your lap, your eyes fixed on the screen. The ringing began again along with that same buzzing.
Holy shit! Ivar was there! Somewhere in the house with his phone!
Ending the call, you weren’t sure what to do but panic hit your chest, and as if on autopilot, you silently pushed yourself up to stand. You didn’t call out his name, instead, walked, tiptoed, to your bedroom door hesitating when your hand touched the handle. Why weren’t you calling out to him? Why was your door closed?
A thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in your head but none you could name. Snap out of it, you blasted yourself! It’s Ivar, your boyfriend, your true love; the guy you had been pining for all day. Not some intruder on the other side of the door ready to do horrible things. Right? Of course not…. Of course not….you repeated to yourself.
Carefully you turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. Your room was dark and at the end of your bed sat a hooded figure... waiting. The light was too dim to see his face and his hood concealed his outline. It was the tension in the air and the way his head suddenly tilted to one side, looking in your direction, that confirmed it was him.
“Oh my god!” you finally cried, and swiped the wall, hitting the light-switch on; both of you instantly recoiling and squinting from the brightness. “Ivar! You terrified me!”
Making no move to stand, he kept looking at you, his eyes skipping over your face and down your body, clearly analyzing the details of your appearance. It was his forced, joyless laugh that made every muscle in your body tense. Steadying himself, he fell silent before sighing in a way that gave no indication of his state of mind. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers, beckoning you closer, his wicked blue eyes conveying that all was not well.
Placing your phone on your dresser, you removed your coat, throwing it to the floor, and stepped out of your shoes. Walking toward him, you lowered to the carpet and stood on your knees, pushing in between his legs. He never took his eyes off yours and your mouth went dry from the intensity.
So fast it made you flinch, he brought his hands up and cupped your cheeks. Normally it would have melted your heart but his steeliness strummed all your nerves.
“Ivar?” you peered up into his bottomless eyes, his brows furrowed. “Babe, I was just calling you. All-day, I.…”
“Where are your parents?” he cut you off. “They’ve been gone all day.”
“Oh...” you hesitated, ignoring how he knew that, “They’re away. My mom is gone until Tuesday, my dad was supposed to be back tonight but his flight got messed up. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
It was hard to know what answer he was looking for, but that didn’t seem it as his face remained unchanged.
“They leave you alone over-night? A teenage girl with a bedroom on the ground floor and her fucking window unlocked. Any creep could get in.”
The irony was lost on him and pointing it out was not the thing to do. Instead, you waited for him to finish, knowing he didn’t actually want you to answer.
Not taking his eyes off you, he seemed to grimace as he, again, scanned your cheeks, and eyes and mouth, his eyelids narrowing further.
“And who are you so dressed up for, hmm? Mark?”
“No!” you rushed. “He just gave me a ride home from the dance. I asked him to. I was crying.”
That admission made his face flicker but only slightly.
“I was upset about our fight and missing you,” you explained.
Using your courage, you raised your hands and finally touched him, resting them on his thighs.
Instantly, he turned and you thought for a moment he was moving away but instead, he leaned back and grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand.
“It's okay, I’m not upset anymore. Thank you,” your eyes flitted down to the yellow box he held up for you.
“No,” his face tightened, “Wipe your face. Take that stuff off.”
“Wha?”
“That lipstick,” he quipped, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the box, urging you on. “And that crap on your cheeks.”
Slowly, you grabbed a tissue, pulling it from the box, another withdrawing behind. As you wiped the pink gloss from your mouth, and blush from your skin, he reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing the extent of his exhaustion; his pale face and dark ringed eyes and messy hair that for the first time had no product in it. Seeing his weariness, you wondered what kind of sleepless and heart-broken roller-coaster he, himself, had been on since your fight.
Grabbing the dirty Kleenex from you, he tossed it onto the floor and took your chin in his hand making you wish he would just break the tension and kiss you.
“You know I don’t like you wearing make-up.”
“I know, it's just...”
“It’s just what?”
“I don’t know,” you tried to look down, but he held your face in place, forcing you to look at him. You felt as if you were being scolded
“You don’t need that shit. You are so beautiful.” Shaking his head, his eyes lowered for a second and he sighed your name, his body and defenses softening and you jumped at the opening.
“Ivar,” you whispered, rubbing your hands over his jeans. “Babe,” you cooed softly making him close his eyes, frowning as if your affection pained him.
“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he said quietly, opening his eyes and glaring. “What am I going to do?”
“Kiss me,” you replied despite his harsh look, thinking of the first day he picked you up at lunch. “Kiss me, and everything else will come,” you whispered and his face began to blur as tears rose in your eyes.
And like that, his mouth was on you, his hands holding your face, his breath revealing his relief and his whimper giving away his desperation. Your sweetheart was aching for you, all this time, but he had no idea what to do. His tongue pushed inside your mouth, his lips demanding more and you lifted your hands and gripped his hoodie, bracing yourself from the force of his emotions. Your beautiful Ivar had been adrift without you. Utterly lost!
Pulling back, he stared at you, his face filled with agony. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears.
“I love you too,” you murmured back.
“Never. Reject. Me. Again,” he articulated as his nostrils flared, his threat easy to hear but you could see past it. “From this moment on, this second on, we belong to each other. Even more than we did before. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”
“I was always yours, Ivar,” you sounded like you were pleading for him to believe you. “And I always, always, will be. I need you,” you whispered.
“I need you,” he repeated back as if swearing a vow. “Now,” he let go of your face and straightened. “Show me,” he jerked his chin and the slightest wave of arrogance came over him. “Show me,” he said again, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly. “With your mouth.”
What?
Was this a test, you wondered, wishing he’d continue touching you with the same love and need you felt just an instant ago. But of course his defenses were still up; he was searching for reassurance. The same reassurance you didn’t give the day before making the situation explode. Your poor Ivar, you would not let him down twice.
Nodding, you looked down at his lap, running your hands over the bulge in his jeans. If this was what he needed to feel your devotion, you would indulge him. In a flash, your quick hands had his jeans open, his beautiful cock upright in your grasp. It always amazed you how smooth his skin looked, his head a shade darker than the rest but all flawless with the slightest sheen.
Leaning down, you took him into your mouth, loving how it felt and his hand grabbed the back of your neck, not pushing but letting you know that he could. God, he tasted amazing; salty and clean and you tightened your fingers around his base and started to move.
Oh how you loved the way he hissed when you bobbed your mouth up and down, his hips jerking and his grip on your neck getting tight. Each time you took him into the back of your throat, it triggered that reflex and like some submissive craving pain, you were instantly turned on. What was wrong with you that the idea of suffocating on him made you wet? Picking up your pace made him moan and you began to slam down a little harder and a touch further each time, making yourself gag.
“Fuck!” he snarled in response clearly loving the sounds of it. “You want to choke on my dick, baby? Hmm?” he grunted out into the room. “Aw fuck I missed you. Last night and all fucking day, I missed you....so much.”
On you moved, and sucked and slurped, your lips sliding down his shaft, your throat getting used to the roughness.
“I’m so lucky to be with you. Fuck!” he growled, rolling his hips up toward your mouth. “I don’t give a shit about that other guy anymore. None of that matters. I just want to be with you. I love you.”
That was the closest you knew he‘d ever come to apologizing.
“Yea, baby, suck it,” he groaned again, “Suck my cock. You’re so beautiful. But don’t get greedy, I have plans for you tonight.”
Reaching down he yanked up the skirt of your purple dress, shimmying it higher until it was above your waist and you were kneeling in your thong. He obviously liked it as he growled and slapped your ass hard before pulling you off of him, his eyes staring at your mouth which must have looked red and puffy and totally wrecked.
“Get on the bed and open your legs.”
“Pardon?” your eyes flashed wide.
“I’m going to make you mine.”
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#ivar#ivar the boneless#modern ivar#vikings ivar#Ivar Lothbrok#ivar fanfic#ivar and reader#ivar smut#ivar romance#ivar loth#ivar in highschool#vikings fanfiction#ivar love story#ivar and sarah
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